


A Matter of Time

by darcenator



Series: A Matter of Time [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: A Matter of Time, A Time Traveler's Wife AU, M/M, future malec fluff, is there a tag for readers to read the prologue first?, past malec friendship, present day slow burn, time travel my man
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-08-12 03:09:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 78,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7918165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darcenator/pseuds/darcenator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Traveling is like flirting with life.</i><br/><i>It’s like saying, ‘I would stay and love you,</i><br/><i>but I have to go.’"</i><br/> </p><p>-Lisa St Aubin de Terán<br/>___</p><p> </p><p>Magnus Bane is still the High Warlock of Brooklyn. Alexander Lightwood is still the acting Head of the New York Institute. The thing is, Magnus has known Alec his entire life. There's just so much to explore when time travel meets immortality. <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/7153127/chapters/16240292"> A Time Traveler's Wife AU</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In order to understand anything in this first chapter, please read the [prologue](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7153127/chapters/16240292) before scrolling down. Everything will make sense, I promise.

( _10 years ago_ )

 

It was no secret that Ragnor Fell disliked shadowhunters as a whole. In fact, there were only few he thought fondly of and would help if the opportunity presented itself.

But there was no other shadowhunter that _intrigued_ him more than Magnus’ longtime friend, Alexander.

He didn’t particularly like the nephilim and the relationship he had with Magnus, but a time traveling shadowhunter was unlike anything Ragnor had come across. Alec encompassed everything he wanted to study about the magic of time and space. Dimensional magic had its limits compared to the gift Alec took for granted. Sure, Ragnor was fortunate to have control over spatial manipulation, but teleportation on a biological level brought variables far beyond what science could comprehend. For that, Ragnor was willing to push his personal feelings aside and let the shadowhunter be, marveling at the miracle of time travel in human form.

That is, until Alec suddenly stopped visiting altogether. Ragnor knew his dear friend grew sullen as the years went by without a glimpse of his long-time nephilim pet. When years turned into decades, the name of the time traveler became taboo. Even with the long distance between them, he knew well enough that Magnus would have no peace until the shadowhunter-who-shall-not-be-named returned to him.

After over 100 years, Ragnor didn’t hold his breath.

At that point, “he” was nothing more than an anomaly.

 

Ragnor will deny it until his dying day that when the time traveler finally reappeared in his private sanctuary, unannounced and fully nude, he shrieked like a young girl. Even portals can’t be conjured from the outside in and yet his wards didn’t faze Alexander in the slightest. _Cheeky_ , he thought. 

“Catarina, he ripped off my curtains and tainted them with his bare body,” Ragnor explains, gesturing to the bunched up fabric on the floor with his left hand while talking on the phone with his right, “and you’re asking me what he looked like?”

She let out an exasperated breath on the other end. “Ragnor, please. Did he look older or younger? Did he have facial hair? A marriage rune on his wrist?”

Ragnor picks up the curtains and carefully folds them, nesting the phone between his head and right shoulder. “Older…, perhaps. I didn’t even hear him until I walked into my study and there he was, for no more than a few minutes before disappearing again. I was preoccupied with regulating my breathing to notice anything. Stupid nephilim wouldn’t even let me call Magnus. Said to call you, instead. Where is he, by the way? I couldn’t reach him.”

Silence fell on the line.

“Catarina?” 

“He’s okay, but you should probably sit down,” she answered with her nurse voice. 

“I’m sitting,” he lied, switching his phone from one ear to the other. “What did he do this time?”

“Magnus… Well, he… Do you remember what he was like after Camille? On the floor?” Catarina winced when Ragnor let out a pained groan. 

 

 _He promised_. Magnus promised he would never do that again. 

Ragnor saw him lying on the ground, pale and unconscious. 

He felt the dead weight in his arms as he carried Magnus to the nearest mattress. 

His heartbeat was faint, but he was still breathing.

And it wasn’t because of the drinking. Catarina said it wasn’t the drinking that undid him. She did her best to revive his heart and when he finally regained consciousness, Magnus told them what he had done. It was… foolish. And reckless. He tried to erase the memory of Camille Belcourt from his own mind by himself, alone, and exhausted himself until he blacked out. Magnus Bane didn’t fully succeed, but he lived.

After the incident, when Ragnor told Alec about what happened, it felt righteous how livid he was towards Magnus. As much as he, Catarina, and Magnus cared deeply for each other, Magnus listens to Alec. He seeks the shadowhunter’s approval above anyone else. After all the shouting and soothing apologies, Magnus promised him that he wouldn’t do that to himself ever again. _He promised_.

 

Ragnor reached for the nearest surface to sit on. “How could he do this to us? Catarina, why didn’t you stop him?”

“I tried! But he-” 

“How did you find him?”

“I didn’t! Somehow, he persuaded me to help him.” Catarina’s voice was no longer hushed.

“Enlighten me, dear.” Ragnor snapped.

“Don’t ‘dear’ me. This affects us all. Magnus has been helping Jocelyn Fairchild’s daughter with suppressing her sight and fed the memories to a demon.” 

“So, he’s removed his memories of helping the poor child?”

“No, but…” she took a deep breath into the receiver, “Magnus thought that if he could protect the girl from Valentine, he could do the same for Alec.” She justified Magnus’ reasons in protecting Alec from the Circle and how it would affect the shadow world if they didn’t do this.

He felt his throat close up. “You… helped him remove his memories of Alec?”

“He thinks I removed them, but all I did was suppress them.”

Ragnor pulled the phone away from his ear, as relief washed over him. Catarina performed the spell, not Magnus. With the memories still intact, Magnus can still be Magnus. Hell knows what kind of person he could have become with that much history ripped from him. It could have turned Magnus into someone neither of them would recognize.

“Were you thorough? How can you be sure that it worked?” 

“I made a potion, a recipe of my own design. He wasn’t in any pain and it left his mind open for me to work with.” Catarina asserted.

“And you’re certain it worked?”

“Alec did tell you to call me tonight, didn’t he? That would mean Magnus told Alec about this day.”

He stood up, surprised. “Well then, why didn’t he appear there? Why did he come see me instead?”

“He did,” she reassured Ragnor. “He was here.”

 

* * *

 

 

( _15 years ago, Alec is 25 and 10_ )

 

Alec feels the cold, tiled surface against his bare back. The air reeks of sweat and… solution? Whatever it is, it doesn’t do him any favors in relieving his migraine. Indistinct noises erupt from the other corridors, but thankfully, this room is empty. Lifting himself off the ground, Alec begins to recognize the lockers and stations that reside outside of the Kendo training room in Idris. When he spots the fresh pile of folded bōgu across the room, he knew what day it was.

Today was the first time he time traveled. He knew because he remembered hiding in the the training room late at night, scared of what just transpired.

 

When he was ten, Alec returned to his room after that brat, Preston, mocked him about his technique after class and in the heat of frustration, he watched his hands slowly disappear into thin air. One second he was in his room in broad daylight and the next, he was left naked in the training room in the middle of the night.

The locker room was locked from the outside after hours, which meant that Alec had two options: one, stay in the room for the night and risk being discovered by an adult the next morning or two, he could quietly find his way back to his room and risk getting caught by his peers.

A noise from the locker room spooked him. Who could be here at this hour? Goosebumps trailed his skin, a reminder that he was still, in fact, nude. When he heard the door slowly creak open, he rushed to the nearest punching bag. His heart was pounding so loud, he wondered if the other person could hear it leaping from his chest. 

The deep voice called out to him in a hushed tone. “Alec, I know you’re scared but I can help you. I have clothes and water when you are ready to talk.” The stranger placed the items by the younger’s feet and shuffled away from where he was hiding.

Alec peeked around to look at the man planted in the middle of the training floor. He looked to be older, but not old. His teachers were old, so he couldn’t have been a teacher. He was a shadowhunter, judging by the runes on his neck and arms. He was definitely younger than his parents, but still. What was he doing in the locker room in the middle of the night? Why help him?

The water was the first to go down before he put on the garments. It was loose around his lanky body, the sleeves and bottoms too long for his short frame. Alec could hear the fabric drag across the floor as he walked towards the man, now lying on his back and looking at the ceiling. When the two were finally arms-width apart, the man propped himself back up and extended a hand to the boy.

“Hi, Alec. I’m also Alec.”

Young Alec took his hand. “You’re named Alec, too?”

“Yeah. Uh- actually, I’m… I’m you,” the other said slowly.

“You’re… me? That’s impossible.” Neither of the Alecs released their grip.

“It would explain how we are both here. We,” the older Alec gestures between them, “travel through time. I’m from our future. And, um, you just came from your room two days ago.” 

Young Alec loosens his grip, but doesn’t let go. He needs the support while his mind wraps around what’s happening. Let’s say Alec is wrong and this is some sort of dream he’s having. He certainly didn’t take naps in the middle of the day. But if he did, had he always appeared naked in his dreams? That cup of water was too satisfying to be real. And he rarely experiences ringing in his ears.

There was the other possibility that this man is telling the truth. They are time travelers, which means this isn’t a one-time occurrence. Alec is here, too. Himself, from the future. It explains how he knew where he was hiding and gathers what he needed to cope before introducing himself. More importantly, his grip feels real enough to believe him for the next few minutes.

The younger releases his hand and sits down, facing Alec. “And where are you coming from?”

“Oh, uh, we don’t talk about what year it is or how old we are.” 

“But you knew where I came from.”

The elder turns to face Alec, mirroring each other in both posture and hand movements. “I already lived through this, so I know, but you can’t learn details in the other direction. Knowing things about the future in advance isn’t good for you.”

“So, I can’t know where you are… traveling from?”

“Correct.”

“How do I know you’re telling the truth, then? Prove to me that you’re from the future.” 

Alec smirks and rolls his eyes. “Izzy used to say ‘prove it!’ all the time. Proving won’t resolve anything because I have already experienced this. You’ll understand someday when you meet another you again. It’s like… it’s like déjà vu, so to speak.”

“Déjà what?” 

“Nevermind.”

They stare at each other for a short while, the younger one trying to read the other’s facial expressions to find a fault. As he was looking into the other’s eyes, he recognizes the same hazel eyes. His eyes. They were surrounded by bushy eyebrows and small bags underneath them, but they were definitely the same eyes. 

“They never grow bigger, you know.” Alec said.

“What never grow bigger?”

“Our eyes.”

The younger’s mouth gaped open. “Are time travelers mind readers, too?”

“No. I just… remember. The next thing you’re going to think about is if the other kids ever find out about this.”

“I- okay this isn’t fair. I can’t know anything about the future and yet you can throw thoughts around like that?”

Alec sucked in a breath. Busted. “Sorry.”

“What else do I need to know about… all this?”

“Eat whenever you can because traveling takes a lot out of you. Hide clothes wherever you find yourself. When we travel, we’re always nude.”

“Always?” The younger’s eyes were blown wide.

“I don’t make up the rules, I just follow them.”

“What rules?”

“Huh. That’s funny.” The elder gets lost in thought while the younger Alec waits for an explanation. “If… I… from your perspective, I am now learning about this stuff from me. So, if I told you what you told… me?”

“Then, where did the idea originate?” the younger one catches on.

 They both rub the same spot at the back of their heads simultaneously.

“Was that an act or did you not remember coming to that conclusion?”

Alec shrugged and stood up. “Both. It’s one thing to remember what happens, but it’s always a surprise when you experience it again and… get it, you know?”

As they both stand in front of each other, the younger Alec gawked at the height of the older him. The future him. Right now, his eye level aligned with Alec’s torso. One day, he will grow to be as tall as him, maybe taller.

“Can you fight Preston for me next week?”

“You’ll find other ways to beat him. Trust me, I’d know.” Alec rests a hand on the other’s shoulder. “Besides, we can’t control where or when we end up.”

“Great,” younger Alec deadpans. There’s so much to learn about this. He has so many questions and there would be no one to turn to. “Wait, how much time do we have left?”

“Not much.”

“Don’t go! Who else knows about… this? About us?”

“Izzy will find out soon enough.”

“And Mom and Dad?”

“And Ma- nevermind. Yes, them too.”

Before the older Alec could drop another spoiler about their future, both Alecs begin to experience excruciating pain and feel their limbs wane. The younger Alec returned to his room, naked once again, with little time past. _Thank you_ , he thought to himself, hoping the sentiment could reach far enough to his future self.

 

The older Alec returned to his present, only been gone mere seconds after the memory demon revealed the person he loved the most. Magnus Bane struggles to sustain the demon as Izzy battles to pull Jace from the demon’s grip. Alec attempts to dress himself, his clothes scattered all over the room. He’s fumbling with the buttons on his shirt when Clary wields her seraph blade into the memory demon and destroys her last chance of regaining her memories.

After the demon releases his parabatai, Alec rushes to Jace’s side.

 _Shit. Shit, shit, shit. This is all my fault_ , Alec thought.

Jace jolts into consciousness and Alec retreats away from his parabatai to calm his nerves. He feels their rune pulsate erratically, but at least he can feel it again. He put Jace’s life in danger. He did this. He distances himself from the group to push the blame and exhaustion away. He needs to get back to the Institute and the last thing he needs is feel anything that might make him time travel again.

 

* * *

 

( _Present day_ )

 

After escorting the shadowhunters out of his lair, Magnus stood in front of the windows to take in the new view. Far too awake to settle in and sleep, he spends the next few hours remodeling his new home to distract himself from his thoughts. He would not think about how the drinking cart needed to be restocked because the last people who helped themselves to a drink are now missing or dead. Or how the brand new carpet no longer had the stain of soy sauce that Elias had spilt days before. Magnus hadn’t realized how much magic he no longer felt until he was left alone in the space that was supposed to be a safe haven.

He was the High Warlock of Brooklyn and it wasn’t enough.

This new lair will be safer. More wards and more magic.

More spells. More blood. 

There will be so much more. And he will protect them all.

 

He stores away paintings that he grew tired of and summoned new ones to cherish. He patches up sculptures like he would heal people, with magic and care. He meticulously reorganizes the bookshelves and inspects each photo album. The simple task turns into an hour of reliving memories and toasting to every person he missed with a newfound sense of revere.

Because he has found Alexander Lightwood and he remembers.

Magnus searches for his phone, looking through every new room. Where could it have ended up after the move? He swept through every room twice before finding it in the new walk-in closet, nestled between the collection of rings and earrings.

As an extra precaution, Magnus magics a new phone with a new number and calls Catarina right away. After several attempts, she picks up. “Who iszis?” she demands in her slurred, sleepy state.

Magnus walks out of the closet and tosses himself across the bed. “Your favorite warlock in the whole wide world, of course.”

“Ragnor doesn’ make calls in the dead of night.”

Magnus scoffs.

“And he doesn’t change his number dozens of times for me to keep track. For all I know, this isn’t Magnus and if that’s the case, I don’t know him. Goodnigh-”

“But I remember!”

He hears her bed creak. “Magnus, I don’t have time for this.”

“Alexander was here tonight. Here!” Magnus turns to lie on his back.

Her voice picks up, finally awake. “You remember? Wait… are we talking about Alec?”

“Yes!” 

“How long did he stay?”

He sits up and brings the phone to his face, for emphasis. “No, listen. Alexander, the _real_ Alexander, like… _present_ Alexander. _HE_ was here.”

“Oh… Oh!!”

“Mmhm.”

“Magnus, ohmigod! How? How is this possible?” Catarina’s voice grows louder as the realization builds. “I’m coming over right now.”

“That won’t be necessary. Just… come by in the morning. I have to send you the new address, anyways.”

She groans into the receiver. “But I liked the old location.”

“You’ll love the view in this new place.” 

“Okay. Wait, why did you have to move again?”

“I’ll explain everything in the morning. Don’t worry about me.”

“I didn’t say I was worried. Why? Should I be worried?”

“Of course not,” Magnus replies too quickly.

“Magnus. What happened? How did shadowhunters end up in your new lair?”

He unravels the story of how a call from the Institute about their family heirloom lured him into meeting face to face. He tells her how he finally met Clary Fray and how they were ambushed by the Circle. He explains how the old lair was infiltrated and the state of it after the attack. He listens to the shock when he tells her how many times Alexander has saved his life. He texts her the new address and promises to explain everything else in the morning. 

She yawns. “Are you feeling okay, though? Any nausea? Headaches?” 

“I’m fine. You should get some sleep.”

“You call me if anything changes.”

“Goodnight!” 

“There better be coffee.” She hangs up.

Great. He has to find a new machine to replace the broken one sitting in the kitchen, but Magnus was too tired to use any more of his magic. There was still so much to do around the place, but fatigue was creeping on him. After all the portals, defensive magic, transporting lofts to the other side of town, and demon summons, a crash was bound to happen sooner or later.

 

Tomorrow will be a new day. Technically, _today_ is a new day.

It took 134 years to see Alexander again. That much time felt like one long, grueling day all put together. But that day is over now and a new one can begin. Days in which he and Alexander both exist in the same present, where he can experience all the stories the shadowhunter has told him over the years.

Before he realized who they were to Alec, Magnus met the legendary Isabelle and his Parabatai, Jace. Never would he had imagined that Clary Fray, the very girl he was protecting as a child, would join forces with the Lightwoods.

Lightwood. Alexander is a _Lightwood_.

He is Maryse and Robert’s son. The man he has known his entire life… is a Lightwood. _Fuck_.

___

 

 

Alec fights off a yawn as he skims through the reports once last time.

Ever since he started patrolling again, he has managed to stay on top of his reports after every mission, as well as everyone else’s in the Institute. It was a perfectly steady work flow up until Clary showed up. Now, he has fallen behind and the messages from his parents, demanding where they were, didn’t help in the slightest. He was stressed out more than usual, baby-sitting the redhead and being dragged left and right by his siblings. Frankly, it’s affecting his ability to function in and out of the field.

Nothing that they have done within the last several days have been 100% approved by the Clave and there was no light way of putting it in the report. He didn’t have a say, but he didn’t exactly do anything to stop them from seeking the Silent Brothers or rescuing Simon from the vampires. And now every word would fall on him. If only he could make them see that.

 _It was in my best interest_ , was the best he could word it. But it wasn’t.

These reports will recall the admission of Clary Fray into the Institute as a new shadowhunter, but it wouldn’t explain how Jace suddenly felt compelled to take her side over his own parabatai and the acting head of the Institute.

Alec writes about how they failed to investigate who had been smuggling blood around Pandemonium and New York, but not how Clary disrupted their mission.

The report states that a mundane was kidnapped at the hands of vampires and it was in their best interest to intervene and retrieve him, but he doesn’t explain how Izzy was unable to protect him when Alec was supposed to be checking the perimeter.

And the last report details the attack that occurred at the High Warlock’s secret lair and how a Circle member almost intervened. He would leave out the part where they stayed behind to summon a memory demon and ended up traveling in the midst of a magical bond. It was abysmal timing, but the destination was necessary. He couldn’t fully punish himself for leaving them because he had to be someplace else.

 _There’s nothing to be ashamed of_ , Magnus said. Those words echo in his head, bouncing off the walls in resonance.

The demon was supposed to feed off of what each of them loved the most. What he didn’t anticipate was the overwhelming truth broadcasting for everyone to see. Jace’s face appeared in front of him and it was… excruciating. He wasn’t sure how much of the pain he felt was the demon or if it was the traveling itself that caused him pain. He protested and denied the truth until he disappeared completely. The last thing he heard before he traveled was Izzy yelling, “It’s okay, Alec!”

He let his emotions get the best of him and now the memory demon was destroyed. The girl’s memories are gone, and he risked Jace’s life in the process. Of course, he will leave all of this out of the report.

He hits SEND and leaves the office for bed. He will need some rest before dealing with any phone calls from his mother after reading all that. It really hasn’t been a good week thus far.

In fact, nothing good has happened since the girl arrived at the Institute. Shadowhunters don’t get the luxury to _be_ happy, but there can still be good days. Like, the day Jace became his parabatai. And when Izzy officially became the top forensic pathologist of New York City. Since Max was born, any visit from him to the Institute was always a good day. In retrospect, any day that doesn’t result in time traveling was a good day for Alec. Today was not one of those days.

Somehow, a thought tugged at Alec within this train of thought. Today was not a good day, but something did happen that wasn’t really bad, per se.

No, meeting Magnus Bane wasn’t horrible at all.

In fact, it actually felt… good?

He couldn’t quite put the feeling into words. Actually, he didn’t verbally put anything into words. He couldn’t even complete a full sentence in front of him. Yeah, that part sucked. ‘Alec’ was a complete sentence, right? He wasn’t sure. He was blinded by his… Magnus.

Whatever that was, it felt nice. That’s the best way to word it. _Nice_.

And when he called him pretty boy, that felt nice.

 _There’s nothing to be ashamed of_ , Magnus said. And despite everything that had happened, Alec can admit to himself that his intention felt nice, too.

On the way to his room, a shadowhunter calls out to him to look at something in Ops. Sleep will have to wait for a little while, turning on his heels. He shoves the nice thoughts away and marches behind the shadowhunter, allowing her to lead as feels around his body for his stele.

There’s no time for daydreaming about nice things. Shadowhunters don’t deserve that kind of luxury. He’s in for a long night.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I cannot make you understand. I cannot make anyone understand what is happening inside me. I cannot even explain it myself."_  
>  -Franz Kafta, The Metamorphosis  
>   
>   
> 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, there will be heavy references to the [prologue](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7153127).

 

 

( _early 1800s, somewhere in the Swiss Alps, Alec is 28_ )

 

 

“Ragnor! I told you to stay away from the kitchen!” Magnus wailed from the other room. The monkey climbed on top of the counters and began to toss everything left and right, which he thought to be another desperate act for attention. And Magnus thought he was needy.

In the midst of all the clattering, a familiar voice erupted. “Uh, Magnus? A little help here?” 

Alec had seen his fair share of crazy, but seriously… _what was that?_

As Magnus rushed in, he tried to suppress a laugh when he saw Alexander recoil to the far corner of the kitchen, dubious. He conjured magic into his palms and slowly circled the blue light in front of the monkey. Ragnor immediately relaxed, entranced by his magic, and tumbled effortlessly into Magnus’ arms. The warlock carried his monkey away to his room to let it play with its toys while Alec was here.

A stack of clothes magically appeared on the counter, courtesy of Magnus from the other end of the cabin. Dressed, Alec was left to wander. The walls appeared wooden, but the furnishings were regal. _Fitting_ , he thought. Magnus always had a way with making a place his. As he walked into a study, a fire lit instantly, as though it was triggered by a presence in the room. Alec walked out the of room and he heard the fireplace extinguish on its own.

Step in, step out. Fire on, fire out.

In, out. In… and out.

Alec slowly turned and after a few steps, jumped back into the room.

“Ah!” Magnus shrieked. His magic was so startled, a cushion exploded into a rain of feathers.

They both ride through the initial shock and laugh until their stomachs ached. The kind of laugh that makes them wheeze and snort. The kind that made their noses scrunch and eyes crinkle. Breathless and infectious.

“The fire- I was just- I’m sorry!” Alec tried to explain through the laughter, but he couldn’t help it. Magnus’ face and his… his eyes! He had never seen his glamour break so fast. Like, WHOOSH!

Magnus needed to find a place to sit, he couldn’t hold himself up any longer. The giggles weakened him so much, he sank to the floor on the very spot he stood, by the fireplace.

When they finally calmed down, they made their way back to the kitchen. Alec was starving and Magnus needed to clean up after the rotten monkey. The warlock roused a broth and chicken dish and settled into a comfortable silence, as they enjoyed their meal. Magnus thought it felt nice to finally have some company after a severe case of cabin fever within the last few weeks.

“Are you here alone?” Alec asked.

“Just the two of us, yes,” Magnus replied, in regards to his monkey.

“Where are your friends?”

Magnus hummed. “Elsewhere, I suppose.”

He always adored when Alec’s eyebrows furrowed, the gap between his eyes scrunched up. It meant that he was trying to read between the lines, whether to pursue further or let the conversation drop. Alec took another bite from his plate. He knew how to pick his battles.

Magnus, intrigued, had always wondered. “Do you have any friends, Alexander?”

“Uh… yeah.” It sounded more like a question. 

“Who? Family doesn’t count.” 

Well, that immediately ruled out Jace and Izzy. “What about other shadowhunters?” Alec offered.

“Do you work together a lot?”

Magnus took the other’s frustrated sigh as a yes.

“Catarina. She’s a friend.” Alec felt triumphant.

“What? She doesn’t count!”

“Why not?”

Magnus pouted. “She’s _my_ friend.”

“We can have the same friends!”

“Go find your own friends.”

“At least none of mine are monkeys.”

“How dare you.” Although a touch hurt, Magnus smiled wide.

He missed this about Alexander. Why did he have to drop in so sporadically? It was so… easy. Being around him always felt easy. They teased and laughed and leaned on each other. Everything’s better when he’s around. It’s like… it’s like time gravitated towards Alexander. Adored him. Time never felt wasted around him. Time was precious. Why couldn’t Magnus have this all the time?

“You’re my friend, Magnus.”

“And just to think, I was going to name the monkey after you.”

 

* * *

  

( _Present day_ )

 

 

The view was breathtaking. The bridge and the river. The skyline that grew and flourished over the decades. Mundanes flock from the far reaches of the planet to New York City. It’s a destination; It’s something to check off their bucket list. They filled the cracks of the pavements and congested the air with cars. Thousands swallowed and spat back out by trains. The air was thick with sirens and cursing. Street music. Street food. Hole-in-the-wall restaurants. Murals. Mundanes gave this city such life, such richness. Magnus contemplated why he didn’t move his lair here sooner.

“You weren’t kidding about the view,” Catarina marveled.

Outside on the balcony, the two take in the morning ambiance over coffee. After a cup or two, she stands over Magnus to check his vitals and double-checks his mind with magic before they can discuss what happened the night before. No signs of hemorrhaging or trauma.

“You appear to be fine, but I can’t fully mend your mind without the Book.” Catarina attempts to magically scan through his head once more, but he swats her hands away.

“I want to be mad at you but whatever you did to me worked out better than I could ever hope. Last night could have been it. You ignored my wishes and I could have exposed Alec if I was captured. However,… the circumstances have changed and I’m glad you did what you had to do.”

“You’re welcome, I think.” She rolls her eyes, taking a loud sip of her coffee.

“You said you needed the Book. Why? I would know if there was a spell that could rewrite memories.”

“I didn’t have a plan for that. The Book was just an extra precaution. Side effects, you know?”

“But, I remember now,” Magnus says.

“I know, but I still don’t understand how. All those memories locked away, protected even from you. As far as I know, you had no slip-ups and no relapses. My magic was sound.”

“Alexander held my hand.”

Catarina snorts and looks at him with a cynical smile. _Seriously?_

He tilts his head towards her and gives a stern, yet salty look. _Seriously._

“And then, what?”

“And then, that was it. The memories flooded in and I just… saw him. One moment he was Alec and then he was Alexander.”

It sounds crazy. He knows it sounds completely mad, but it’s the truth.

That much magic over the course of a decade undone by a single touch. She locked away centuries worth of memories of Alexander, even moments he had long forgotten, unraveled in an instant. It’s frightening how simple it was. One moment, he was nothing but a stranger to him and in the next, he was everything.

And it wasn’t just memories of Alexander. It was everything. It’s as though the mere existence of Alexander became so ingrained in him that a part of Magnus was also locked away. He didn’t feel weaker or lesser, but there was a lot of things about himself that just… didn’t make sense. Facts that came to him, but didn’t know where or who it came from. Spells he can chant, but couldn’t perform properly. When tall men with dark, messy hair would walk by, Magnus always did a double take. He thought it was because he had a type. 

And now Magnus felt whole. He’s still putting the pieces together, but at least they were all there.

“He was there, you know.” Catarina ponders.

“What do you mean?”

“There were a lot of memories to work with. I had no idea how much I had to deal with until I was an hour into working on you. You two were so… fixed. My energy was wavering and suddenly Alec was there, offering his hand.”

Magnus is in a state of disbelief. So, he _did_ travel to him in this century and he missed it by being a martyr. But that would also mean that Alec cared deeply enough to travel at the exact moment Catarina needed him the most. She needed his strength.

“Do you think that by using his strength, it had something to do with how my memories were unlocked?”

Catarina considers this theory. “It’s possible. Your body responded to his touch and no other senses.”

“That’s not actually true,” he counters. “My body… I don’t know how to describe it other than an attraction.”

“Sounds more like you were into him.”

“I wasn’t myself at the time!” He doesn’t sound convincing.

Catarina chuckles. “Have you met you? Let me guess. You gave him the old Michelangelo line? Wiggled your eyebrows?”

“I don’t wiggle my eyebrows,” Magnus groans.

“I’m only kidding. So, what are you going to do about him?”

Magnus gives her a blank stare. “About…”

“He’s a shadowhunter.”

“And the sky is blue.”

“Magnus.”

He avoids her gaze. “Get to the point.”

“He’s out there and now you know where he is. Call him! Get his butt over here and… I don’t know, do something about this!”

She was right. In hindsight, it was alarming how many visits he has made to the Institute and never seen Alec. It had been years since Magnus has stepped foot in there, but his services always remained open to the Lightwoods. Because of their disdain for each other, much of his business with them dealt with warlock intel for the Clave. On occasion, he would see an A. Lightwood on paperwork here and there, but how could he have known?

But, Magnus _knows_ now. 

Magnus knows who he is and where he resides. He knows that they can’t just pick up where they left off all those years ago. Their longtime friendship, the one constant in his life, was now in the hands of a shadowhunter. He’s out there and he has no idea what his future entails. All the visits to the past and the hundreds of times they crossed paths. The adventures they had together, the stories they shared, and the lives they have saved. All of that was waiting for Alexander.

But, Alexander was no longer his. He… he’s Jace’s. And Isabelle’s. He’s Maryse and Robert’s son. He’s the acting head of the Institute. He is a soldier for the Clave.

How will Magnus fit into his life?

___

 

 

No calls. No text messages or emails. Radio silence.

Of course, Alec should have expected his mother to pay a visit to the Institute in person after what he had sent her. It was still a surprise, as acting head, to not be informed, but she is the Head after all. Maryse had the authority to unexpectedly show up, hand over new assignments, and belittle anyone who refutes.

“You’re the acting head of this Institute. If there’s a diplomatic mission, you should go,” Jace proposed. “Let’s switch assignments.”

“Nope.” Alec is in no authority to do as he pleases anymore. He has done enough of that in the last few days and it has gotten him in more trouble than he anticipated. Maryse is here and whatever punishment she has in store for him is just waiting to bite him in the ass. The last thing he needs is another reason to dig himself into a grave. “This time I’m actually gonna obey orders, and babysit your girlfriend.”

“Clary? She’s more like my responsibility. Hey, you’ll keep an eye on her, right?”

Alec jerked away the instant Jace placed a hand on his shoulder.

Fed up, Jace pulled him aside. “What is wrong with you?”

It was the first physical contact they made since the incident at Magnus’ place and instinctually, the memory spooked Alec to the point where he could barely hold eye contact with his parabatai for more than a few seconds. The agony of the demon tearing a piece of his deepest secret out of him and the shame he felt… He could live with the fact that everyone at the Institute knew he could travel through time and by the angel, they have seen him naked so many times, they’ve been practically desensitized. But he had never been emotionally bare until that night. He was… _vulnerable_. He felt and feeling leads to traveling.

It hasn’t been easy dealing with a time traveling parabatai. The decision was so simple at the time. How could it not be? Since the moment their parents took Jace in, they’ve been attached at the hip. They trained together, even when Alec from the future would visit. The elder Alec would instruct them on how to improve their technique and strengthen their bond.

Jace was the first person outside of the Lightwood family who saw Alec for who he was, not for his ability. He called it his superpower. Alec never believed that time travel was a gift, but it felt nice to have someone not see it as a burden. He would tell Jace about each travel and wished he could time travel, too. He tried to explain his experiences to Izzy and the mechanics of it all, but how could she empathize what it’s really like? Jace could. 

They were naïve to pursue the parabatai ceremony, pressured by their parents. Alec and Jace dreamt of the possibilities after the oath and how time travel might affect them both. Would Jace be able to travel too? Would he see what he can see? Feel what he felt? And understand the anxiety and wonder of it all?

No. Since then, all Jace felt was the pain. The stress of time travel and the worry.

They had such hope that by becoming his parabatai, Jace would be the one person to track Alec through time and space. They had counted on that, but it was just as bad as trying to track someone over water. Nothing.

Well, not completely nothing.

A year ago, Alec disappeared in the midst of an attack and went missing for almost two weeks. Feeling helpless, Jace decided to track Alec through their parabatai rune and the striking pain shot through time and paralyzed Alec on the other side. When he finally reappeared, they didn’t speak to each other for a month. Alec couldn’t believe that Jace went to extreme measures to find him, only to have their bond weakened. They chose each other to become parabatai. They wanted so much more out of this and all he can share with Jace was his burden.

“You have every right to be mad at me,” Alec replied.

“What did you do? Throw my leather jacket in the washing machine again?” Jace teased.

“This isn’t a joke,” he snapped. “At Magnus’. The demon… the image of you.”

“That? You love me… so? I love you, too, Alec.”

Where did all the air go? It felt as though the oxygen got sucked out of the room. The words he didn’t expect to hear finally tumbled out of Jace’s lips and it was- 

“Come on, man. We’re parabatai. We’re brothers.” 

Awful. It was awful.

Jace continued his stampede through Alec’s heart. “We’ve spent almost our whole lives together. How could we not love each other? This is what’s been bothering you? Seriously?”

“You’re right. That’s true,” Alec stammered. “I just thought you’d think that-”

“What?”

It’s not like it was eating him up inside to find out how Jace would react. Parabatais were not allowed to fall in love. They were raised together, so how could they not love one another. Alec wasn’t even sure of the exact moment he knew, but it only grew with their parabatai bond.  It’s not like he hasn’t tried to shut those feelings down before. He’s tried to not travel back to when they were young. He’s tried to not feel the warmth in his chest when Jace gave him that genuine smile. He’s tried so hard not to punish himself when jealousy filled him up.

Because Jace wasn’t his. It took all of his will power to smile through the heartache.

“Whatever, okay. If you want to follow Mom’s orders tonight, that’s great. But please, just do me one favor… Swear to me you won’t take your eyes off of Clary.”

All Alec could do was nod. Yep, definitely not his.

“I can’t believe I even asked you that.” Jace laughed. “You won’t let me down.”

As they pull into a hug, Alec let his face fall for a moment to himself. Hidden from Jace to see, he closed his eyes and savored the moment. Every inch of them was connected and then it was gone.

 

___

 

 

No calls. No text messages or emails. Radio silence.

Business was at a standstill. Magnus still had ongoing orders and projects from his clients, but no word from the outside world for new business. Nothing. He tried to take this in stride and embraced the free time in his schedule. He did, in fact, move to a new location and changed his number. In no time, he will be back in the swing of things.

He was in the middle of reading when he received a text message.

 

 **Raphael (1:17)** -

 _You know, I shouldn’t have to track down a nurse in order to reach the High Warlock_.

 

Magnus cursed himself as he dialed his number. He was supposed to check in after the meet at the club, which now felt like ages ago.

Raphael answers the phone. “Oh good, you’re alive.”

“I can’t say the same about you,” Magnus retorts.

“Dios, every time. I heard about what happened with you and the Circle.”

“Aw, you were worried about little old me?”

Raphael scoffs. “Hardly. But you were supposed to call last night.”

“I got sidetracked.” That was the understatement of the year.

“And the necklace?”

“Well,” Magnus fails to come up with an excuse.

“The Circle has it?”

“No! No, it’s back in the hands of the shadowhunters. It’s safe.”

Magnus hears Raphael curse in three different tongues. “Shadowhunters. You know one of them tore a hole in our wall the other day? In broad daylight!”

“Why were they at Hotel DuMort?”

“I won’t get into specifics…”

“Camille.” 

Raphael sighs. “Yeah…”

“Skip to the part about the wall.”

“The Fairchild girl was fighting off one of us when archer boy shoots through our wall and-”

“Wait! Are you talking about a tall drink of water with a bow and arrow?”

Raphael is exasperated. “That’s not the point, but yes.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. For fuck’s sake, Raphael. After all this time, I waited so long, only to come in second to you?”

“I’m- I’m not following.”

“That was Alexander Lightwood! Alexander!” Magnus is practically giddy to say his name out loud every time. 

“I know who the Lightwoods…,” Raphael says, slowly coming to realization, “are. You mean…”

“Alec.”

“The one who can-” “Mmhm.”

“You picked a real winner, tonto.” Raphael’s name is called in the background. “I’ve got to go.” 

“Why don’t you come over tonight and see the place.”

“I’ll let you know. Adiós.” Raphael hangs up.

 

Apart from his short-lived affair with Etta, Raphael was the only other person within the past century that Magnus had, with whom had no history or connection to Alexander. In some ways, Raphael was as much of a fresh start for him as he was, as a new vampire. They were able to build a friendship that was uniquely their own. Magnus told him stories of his old friend, a time traveling shadowhunter, and that’s all they were to Raphael. Stories. Magnus had waited and waited for Alec to appear and imagined what it would be like to introduce his newest friend to his oldest friend. That dream was ripped from him, having Raphael beat him to it by ONE day. And with Alexander in the present!

As far as first impressions go, at least Raphael’s was better than his. Well, the _first_ first impression, that is. Magnus was eight years old and practically choked Alec until he vanished. What else was he supposed to do? A stranger was stealing his father’s clothes! His _second_ first impression was Alec’s first travel back in time to him. Another Alec had warned him to take it easy on him, but Alec handled the big time jump quite well. The _third_ , and hopefully last, first impression happen the night before. And it was the best of all three.

It was the best because it was a first for them both. It was the best because Magnus had no expectations leading up to it. They were just two strangers that happen to meet one night.

Before the memories, Alexander was Alec and Alec was… handsome. Alec was a shadowhunter who saved his life twice before they exchanged words. Alec was having trouble speaking in front of him and that was… flattering, somehow. Because before the memories, Magnus was questioning why his body gravitated towards Alec, why his heart leaped at the sight of him, and why he was just as speechless when Alec spoke. That Magnus hid no agenda in pursuing Alec that night, one pick-up line after another. There was no doubt that he would have asked him out in the near future. Magnus felt the attraction the moment he laid his eyes on him.

And then their hands touched and the memories came flooding back. He was Alexander and then he disappeared from his grasp. Since then, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about him. Not just the memories, but of present day Alexander. The two versions of him danced in his head, a tango of emotions regarding his feelings for the shadowhunter.

He needed to talk to him. Be in his presence. Feel him again. Magnus shot up from his armchair and pulled out his phone. He got through to Isabelle before the line was passed on to Alec. Each ring pulsated through him until he finally picked up.

 

“Hello? Who is this?” Alec sounded out of breath.

“Alexander. Hi, It’s Magnus.” It felt silly having to introduce himself again. Because, _really_. “We met the other day. You know, with the demon?”

“Uh, yeah… Yeah, hey, what’s up?”

 _Keep it light. Don’t scare the boy off_ , Magnus thought. But what can he say to a delicious voice like that?

“I was just thinking it was really nice getting to know you.” _Good start_. “You seem… sympathetic.” _Sympathetic? Jeez_. “Would you like to go out for a drink some time?” _Right to the point_.

“That sounds fun, um… When?”

 _How about a 100 years ago, give or take, you dumb nephilim_. “How about right now?”

“Um…” _That’s not good_. “You know, now’s not a really good time for me. Another time? Gotta go.” Alec hurried off the line as fast as he did the night before, in person.

Magnus had forgotten how abrasive young Alec was. No, not young. Present. Present Alec. Magnus would have to work his way to the Alec he knew in the past. The Alec that loved him.

“Playing hard to get. I love a challenge.”

___

 

  

 _You won’t let me down_ , Jace said. And yet, here they were.

 

“She’s gone.”

Jace raised his voice. “What do you mean, gone?”

“She and Simon got arrested when I was securing the fire escape,” Alec explained. “I, uh- I got distracted.” 

“The mundane was here?”

“Simon? He’s gone, too?” Izzy inquired. Her worry only made the guilt worse. 

“It was an unmarked car. I don’t know where they took her.”

They weren’t excuses, but the facts. A wolf was playing decoy while men with badges snatched the two mundanes out of his sight. There wasn’t much else he could do. He was present for all of it and even if Alec did manage to travel during all this, Jace wouldn’t blame him for losing her. She slipped out of the Institute without permission. She got Simon involved. She did what he told and stayed behind with Simon. He should have known that it was a trap the moment he stepped out. But, this was all Clary’s fault.

“What did you do, Alec?” Jace snapped.

Great. That’s just fantastic. The blame was on him now, that’s just… that’s just wonderful. Ever since that girl arrived, Jace had blinders on for Clary.

Clary this, Clary that. Clary, Clary, Clary.

And the worst of it was that the fault somehow all fell on him. All that effort for nothing. Jace depended on him and in his eyes, he failed.

Jace stalked away to track her with a sheet, but couldn’t get through to her. He’s fighting so hard to get to her, it was starting to piss Alec off how hard he’s trying. This must be what it looked like when he went missing. If her disappearance didn’t affect Jace so strongly, a little part of Alec would have been pleased she was gone for a while. It was the three of them again. He was… shit, he was feeling resentful. As long as she was gone, their parabatai bond will only strain.

“We need to parabatai track.”

Although they were physically tracking Clary, Alec’s eyes were only set on Jace. _It must be hard being in love with Jace and he’s straight and everything_ , Clary said. His emotions were muddling with his tracking abilities.

“Alec, concentrate,” Jace bit. Alec’s eyes kept darting between his eyes and his lips. The closeness was…

 _Alec, just say it, you’ll feel better. You’re in love with Jace_.

“Alec!”

“I’m doing it! She’s not showing up.”

Thank heavens for Izzy to break up the moment. “Just like I thought. She wasn’t arrested,” she said.

Jace was seeing red. “It was your job to look after her!”

“I did my best, Jace.” He rarely had to justify his actions, the tension new to them.

“Then maybe your mother was right, and your best just isn’t good enough.”

“Hey!” Alec yelled.

He _knew_. Jace knew that this was a trigger point for Alec. This was a touchy subject that neither one could bring up without hurting the other. Alec was sensitive to the fact that what Jace once called a superpower for Alec was what made Alec work and train harder than ever. Time travel was the reason why Jace was better than him and their mother knew it. Wait, sorry, his mother. Jace said _your mother_. His mother never said the words but Alec could be the best shadowhunter in the world and it still wouldn’t be enough. Because he wasn’t… he wasn’t normal. Normal like Jace.

And now, Jace was stabbing into the chink in his armor just to bring him down. And for what? Her?

“Are you so blinded by your feelings for Clary, you’ve lost sight of us? Clary snuck out. I went after her. To protect her. I did nothing you haven’t done a thousand times before.” These were the facts.

“Yes, you did. You lost her.”

Alec walked away. He needed… he needed air. Things could have been simpler if she just stayed put. If she hadn’t done something so foolish and snuck out, they wouldn’t have to deal with kidnappers again, for the second time. He wondered if Izzy had better luck with the Seelies, regarding their relationship with the Clave. If it didn’t go well, no one would be going home happy and sure enough, their mother will find a way to blame it on him. Alec wasn’t sure what he had expected this day to be, but it sure wasn’t this.

And to think, maybe he would have said yes to Magnus Bane. That drink sounded really good right about now.

 

___

 

 

Later that night, Magnus was supposed to text Raphael the moment he was free to come over.

He looked forward to showing off his newly redecorated lair to Raphael when the call came through. Magnus hoped to see his dear friend’s name on the screen, but was shocked to see Isabelle’s instead. Luke Garroway was bitten by an alpha and was on route with Simon, Jace, and Clary. 

All which could have been explained through a text to Raphael, as a raincheck for their plans tonight.

The vampire came to his own conclusion the moment he stood just outside the building, disgusted by the smell of wet dog and their blood. Magnus had neglected to call or text him for the second night in a row and truthfully, it started to agitate Raphael. After all, he was second in command for the New York vampire clan. Aren’t leaders supposed to keep in touch? Aren’t friends supposed to do that?

If only Magnus had remembered.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering, Aja Naomi King is my Catarina.
> 
> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments ♥


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"You like the pain._   
>  _You like it because you think you deserve it._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> -Anonymous

 

 

( _Present day, Alec is 14 and 25_ )

 

 

Knowledge is a tantalizing entity when it comes to time travel.

Visiting the past, mixed with current wisdom, leaves a sense of uneasiness when there should be calm. Events can’t be changed, so there’s nothing that can be done but to sit back and watch it unfold.

Traveling to the future, with no sense of forethought, leaves a calm when things should feel uneasy. Events that will happen are fixed, so any decisions leading up to it have solidified.

That doesn’t mean Alec liked keeping the secrets he’s learned from the future, but it’s nice to not have to think about certain aspects of his life. At a young age, he discovered a lot of things about his future that he couldn’t share with anyone else.

For starters, his naked body was one huge spoiler. Most shadowhunters in training chose their runes in their late teens, but he was observant and surmised why future Alec would choose the runes that decorate his body. Furthermore, he knew that he would be acting head of the Institute one day, although he still breathed a huge sigh of relief when he was asked to.

And it was in these future visits that Alec realized he was going to have a little brother.

Maxwell Lightwood was born when Alec was 17, but they first met when Alec, 11, traveled to Max, 6. The shock of Maryse watching the two of them play together was felt thousands of miles away in Idris. The instant present Alec’s phone rang, he knew he was about to get an earful. If he had told his mother that she’d be having another child, six years before she’d be pregnant, would she have believed him? No one should have that power. He carried that secret for years until his parents sat him and Izzy down and told them the good news. He cried and thought, _finally!_

Having a significant age gap between he and Max meant that they saw very little of each other in the present. With the ability that Alec has, he’s able to visit his little brother to when they can both be young. Jace and Alec were close in age, so it never felt like he was a younger brother to him. But with Max, the visits were a chance to bond with his little brother when the opportunity would never happen in the present. In turn, Alec allowed himself to be playful when the majority of his childhood felt constricted. Those visits only happened during his teenage years, but he was thankful he had a chance to get to know his little brother. Now, Max’s trips to the Institute are the highlight of his days.

It’s a surreal experience when Max finds two Alec’s in the same place. He had only met traveling Alec back in Idris, but when Max and their father were heading back to the Institute after a… situation in Mumbai, Max was elated to find out that another Alec was in the building.

After Max hugged his older siblings and told them what happened in Mumbai, the older Alec said, “Why don’t you go to my room and take Alec with you to your room. He’ll show you the Gray Book and teach you the Extinguish rune.”

Max hurried out of the room and rushed to Alec’s bedroom. It had been a year since he last saw his brother and he couldn’t wait to see him again. When he burst into the room, he tackle-hugged young Alec onto the bed.

“Alec!”

“Hey, Max!” young Alec laughed.

Max unwrapped himself from Alec and stood on the bed.

Alec sighed. “Could you at least remove your shoes before you jump on the bed?”

“Ugh,” Max groaned and rolled his eyes. “You sound just like Alec.”

“I am Alec.”

“Riiiight.” Max reluctantly removed his shoes and threw them across the room. “Alright, now that that’s settled.” Alec remained seated, cross-legged, while he watched Max jump on the bed.

Up, down, up, down. “How old are you now?” Max asked.

“I’m 14. You?”

“8!”

“Oh. Shouldn’t you be in Mumbai?”

“Yeah- but uh- I got- in trouble.” Max explained, in between breaths with each jump.

Young Alec smirked. “What did you do this time?”

Max’s jumping came to a halt and bounced where he stood. “Let’s just say you told me to go find the Extinguish Rune right now.”

“By the angel, Max-” Alec proclaimed.

“I just wanted to draw the Nourishment rune!”

“That looks nothing like the Heat-”

“They do too!” countered Max, annoyed.

“Fine! Fine.” Young Alec moved off the bed to pick up Max’s shoes. “Can we go to your room, so I can at least show you the Extinguish rune? I don’t want future me to have to deal with our Institute up in flames.” He opened the door and gestured at Max to leave.

Max climbed off the bed and dragged his feet out of the room, young Alec on his tail. As they turned the corner, they spotted older Alec arguing on the phone. When he hung up, he saw the two standing in the hall, looking at him quizzically.

“Where are the two of you off to?” older Alec asked.

Max replied, “My room, like you said. Were you talking to Jace? Who’s Magnus?”

“Wha-Magnus? He’s… no one. Alec, do you need anything from the kitchen?”

Young Alec shook his head no. “Thank you, though.”

Max looked between them, with his mouth open in awe. He then started to giggle at them as he walked away, pulling young Alec along. “This is so weird. Let’s go.”

The younger half-waved to the older, while older Alec grinned at the two. He remembered how fun that day- _this_ day- was with Max. Younger him remained in the Institute for the entire day, unaware of the drama that will soon unfold.

 

* * *

 

 

Phoenix eyes, for their healing properties.

Moon salt, for their supernatural qualities.

And Idris fulgurite, for lightning-fast binding capabilities.

The base was brewing and with the three ingredients, the potion would eliminate the alpha poison in an instant. Magnus had alternative ingredients, but Luke was running out of time.

“Stir,” he instructs Clary, handing her the ladle. “We need to have it ready before your boy toys get back.”

She dismisses the jibe. “What if they don’t get back in time?”

“You can’t think like that, biscuit.”

 _Biscuit_. Magnus hadn’t thought about that nickname in years and it slipped out of his mouth effortlessly. It had a new significance, much like saying Alexander’s name out loud.

“Magnus, I don’t know if I can do this anymore.” Clary says, depleted. “I’m an art student. All my adventures are supposed to be two-dimensional.”

“Who says?”

“Me! Look, it is one thing to draw monsters and demons, but it is completely different to see them up close and personal.” Clary looks up at Magnus, lost. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Luke, Jocelyn, and Dot spent years protecting and shielding her from the shadow world. They knew that one day, the lies and the sight suppression would cease. They needed more time to explain and prepare her for this life, but life had other plans. Now, Clary was left with inexperience, her mother missing and a gaping hole in her memories. Of course, she couldn’t know what she would be dealing with.

That doesn’t necessarily mean Clary didn’t come with her instincts. She’s a natural shadowhunter, like her mother. She’s brave and feisty. A fighter, who defends those who needs protecting. She believes what is best for the situation, even when it’s for the safety of a downworlder. Jocelyn and Luke did one hell of a job raising her to be a good person and now a great shadowhunter.

“Don’t sell yourself short. You forget, I’ve seen you in action, Clary Fairchild.”

Another rise of pain rouses Luke into unbearable agony. The poison was working into his system faster than Magnus had anticipated and he wasn’t sure how much time he could stall until the boys return. If the poison makes one full pass into his bloodstream, Luke will lose consciousness.

“Let me take your pain away.” Magnus hovers his hand over him.

“No! No.” Luke hisses.

Magnus readily conjours his magic over the wounds. “Agitation only makes the venom work faster.”

“I need to tell Clary.”

“Save your strength.”

“No, you need to know.” Luke had been using every waking moment, half in hallucination and half in torture, to tell Clary something, but he won’t say. Couldn’t say. “You need to tell her, all of it.” He looks at Magnus, pleading. “Promise me.”

“Magnus, do it,” Clary demands.

Magnus takes a deep breath and pushes his magic into the wounds. He works his way into the nervous system and targets his energy to relieving the pain where it has spread the most. If anything, it’s a temporary fix until the potion is complete. The treatment knocks Luke out, at peace while the poison continues to spread. As Magnus rests, he feels the muscles in his body go slightly limp. The poison will shock Luke awake soon and if it happens before the boys return, Magnus fears his energy won’t be enough to save him.

As Luke drifts, Clary watches him with worry. “What’s so important that Luke risked his life?”

“Everything Jocelyn hoped to hide from you,” Magnus watched Clary, as she gazed longingly at her drawing pad. “When you were younger, I’d watch you sketch. It was your bliss. You’re gonna need some bliss now.”

“Back then, there wasn’t a day I didn’t draw. It was like breathing.” Clary tenderly feels the paper underneath her fingertips. “Now, I look at this blank page and I barely even know what to do. Sometimes I feel like my art, my memories… my life, it-it all vanished with that memory demon.”

“Your art, everything you are, they’re all still here. You’re the woman your mother always knew you could be,” he comforts her.

“But tried to keep me from being.”

In hindsight, Magnus felt more whole in the past day than he did the last several years since he regained his memories of Alexander. He felt… significant. He felt more like himself, with purpose. He would do anything to give back Clary’s memories. For her to feel what he felt. The pit of guilt sitting in his gut grew heavy. He gave away her memories to the demon, not once considering that she would never get them back. Clary destroyed the keeper of her memories to save her friends and that kind of act ought to be rewarded. Why not with her memories?

“That’s why you need to know how you got here.”

She straightened her back and looked directly into his eyes, determined. “I’m ready.”

 

* * *

 

 

Young Alec was roaming around the halls, in the midst of playing hide-and-seek with Max. He searched through his room and Izzy’s before checking the study. On the way, he stopped in the middle of the hall and saw his mother sitting in her office. She looked… sad.

“Mother? What’s wrong?” young Alec asked.

Maryse’s features immediately softened at the sight of him. “Nothing. Why don’t you go back to Max.”

He entered the room and approached her. “Did something happen at home?”

“No, mijo. Nothing we can do about it now,” she reassured him.

“There’s always something we can do,” older Alec interrupted, watching them from the doorway. “You taught me that.”

Maryse smiled at him and returned her gaze back at her younger son, reaching for his hands. “Now, go find Max. You and I,”- she tilted her head towards the older- “need to talk.”

Young Alec gave her a sad smile before leaving the room. Older Alec walked in and patted the top of the other's head as they passed each other. When he was younger, he hadn’t thought about this moment as something future Alec had a fault in, but now that he’s living it in the present, he would much rather play hide-and-seek instead.

Alec planted himself on the table in front of his mother. “Do you remember when I was ten and there was that kid, Preston, who kept beating the crap out of me in kendo training?”

“You had perfect form, perfect technique,” Maryse reminisced.

They both knew that wasn’t what was holding him back. “You said I needed to mess it up, break form, do anything to end the match sooner. It went against every fiber of my training… but I adapted.”

There was life in her eyes at the memory of the match. “I was so proud when you broke his nose.”

Alec smiled. “Until his mother yelled at you,” he countered, “and insisted I be punished for insubordination.”

“That just made me prouder.” She leaned towards him. “The way you took it.”

“I knew it had to be done. We can figure out a work-around for whatever the Clave is throwing at you.” This was his mess and if anyone was going to fix it, it was him.

Maryse grinned at his determination. “Work-arounds can get messy, if you recall.”

He wasn’t going to punch his way out of this, but he was going to fight like hell to fix what he broke, what Clary broke in the first place, and whatever was left to salvage between him and Jace.

“We’re Lightwoods. We break noses and accept the consequences. Tell me what you need me to do.”

Penance was familiar to him. Penance and pain. Why?

Why couldn’t anything go right in his life? No matter how many times he picks himself back up, he gets knocked down again. Just when he thinks there would be a win, there is a price to pay.

The Lightwood legacy was about honor and loyalty, which had merit in their relationship with the Clave. Because of Clary Fray, all the unsanctioned missions, kidnappings, and meddling in downworlder business caught the Clave’s attention in the worst possible way. Alec would do whatever it takes to gain back their trust and earn the respect the Lighwood name deserves.

But, at what cost? He has been through so much. Mission after mission, training session after training session. Paperwork and more paperwork. Just when he thinks he can catch a break, that white-hot pain would shoot through his temple and down his spine, his ears ringing, limbs numb, and he’s gone in an instant. Everything about time travel was taxing and it would take every ounce of his energy to travel back home. Out there, in the mundane world, he would rather take that on any day than to mess with the Clave.

Alec was… Alec was so _tired_. Tired of having to fight to be present.

Tired of being a liability to his family because of who he is.

Tired of hiding himself from the world. Secret after secret.

Tired of doing everything in his power to just… be.

But he had to fight. He had to work twice as hard to be considered an equal, a leader. As the acting head, he had to endure. Whatever plans his parents have for he and Izzy will require sacrifice.

Would it ensure peace between his family and the Clave? Were they even capable of that?

 

* * *

 

 

 

Magnus Bane became High Warlock of Brooklyn during the Uprising.

In a time when warlocks were retreating to the shadows, too weak and cowardly to fight against Valentine Morgenstern, Magnus felt the need to lead and protect his kind. Many looked to him for guidance and safety, but the Clave and the Accords were never on their side. Too many warlocks were murdered because of how they were born and not enough downworlders were powerful enough to speak up about the injustice. They lived in a world where the superior race cared so little, thus someone needed to care a great deal about the Downworld, as a whole, and the responsibility fell on Magnus.

The Uprising was prevented by Jocelyn and Luke, but the casualties outweighed the victory.

“They never found all the bodies.” It still pained him to this day how many of his friends, his people, couldn’t grieve properly. One man’s ideals almost wiped his entire species in a matter of years. The staggering numbers left him numb for weeks, feeling no magic in him. “He was obsessed with ensuring purity of blood, convinced that the impurities were a threat to peace. He was the threat to peace.”

Magnus had lived a long life and thus far, men like Valentine either self-destruct or were defeated in the end. He preferred to have Valentine killed. “Mad men rarely make sense. Mostly, they just hate. And he hated the Downworlders, for the gifts that we possess that he could not have. He hated us enough to kill us all.” If only the Clave had realized it sooner.

Luke and Jocelyn caught on early and reached out to Magnus, knowing that he would understand the disturbing consequences.

“Why didn’t the Clave stop him?” Clary inquired.

He remembered what Valentine was like at the time- captivating, obsessive, and a true spearhead. No matter what garbage spewed out of his mouth, people were drawn to him. “He was clever. He and his followers, they managed to convince the Clave that the Downworlders they killed on their special missions had violated the Accords in some way.” Magnus scoffs. “Complete fabrications.”

Her eyes widened. “How could the Clave not see?”

“Shadowhunters believe in the Law as absolute. They could never conceive of one of their own going astray.”

Magnus was surprised by her chuckle.

“My father didn’t go astray, Magnus,” she said. “He went insane.”

Now, she was getting it. Why they hid the truth about her father from her and why they needed to protect her from him. The timing of Valentines return was not a coincidence and there was no way of hiding it from Clary anymore. He’s out there and he has her mother. “Ever since I found out Valentine was my father, I wondered how my mother could be married to someone like that and why she stayed.”

“She had to stop him. And safeguard the Cup. Everything Jocelyn did, she did to save the people she’d sworn to protect. She took her oath as a Shadowhunter seriously,” Magnus explained.

Magnus noticed the signs several months ago. Whispers of rumors, the disappearances, and the dead bodies. What happened then was about to happen again. The entire Downworld was convinced that in order to prevent Valentine from getting his hands on the Mortal Cup, the best course of action was to steal the Cup and take the power for themselves. When Magnus bumped into Clary at Pandemonium, things only escalated from there. The attempt on his life was evidence of that.

Clary sighed. “If the world still needed protecting, then why did she give up being a Shadowhunter?”

Did she really not know? After everything he has told her and the lengths her mother took to shelter her from the shadow world? Why Luke was brought here in the first place?

“Because the one thing in the world she loved more is you. She had to protect you.”

 

* * *

 

 

For Alec, the punching bag was his only solace. It was a future Alec that taught him that.

It was both a stress-reliever and a means to prepare for the mundane world. Shadowhunter speed was in his blood, but he needed to maintain his strength if he was going to travel. Hiding required a lot of climbing and drunk mundanes meant a lot of punching. The best chance of survival usually involved lying, stealing, and hiding. Break noses and accept the consequences? Sure, but by the angel, not like this. He hated this side of him, the inverted part of him that is desperate, vulnerable, and a goddamn spectacle.

The early days of traveling were filled with lessons from his older self, about surviving outside the walls of the academy and the Institute. Picking locks, scouring for food, pickpocketing strangers, and seeking shelter in any weather. And in between, he taught himself how to stitch himself back together.

There were a lot of things he had to learn when time travel didn’t allow clothes, weapons, or a stele.

He loved his bow and quiver. Feeling the textures in between his fingertips, the changes in pressure. The release, the sound of an arrow striking the target. It was a reminder that he was present, capable and sharp. He wished that he could bring them with him through his travels, but alas.

Thus, his body was his only weapon.

Alec had a good few good rounds of training before Izzy stormed into the room.

“Promise me you won’t go through with it,” she pled. “Promise me you’ll say no.”

He snuck in two more hits before responding. “What are you talking about? Say no to what?”

“They’re gonna make you marry.” Her voice was faintly unsteady.

 _No. That can’t- no_ , he thought. “Who’s they?”

“Our parents. They’re making plans for both of us.”

“No, you heard wrong.” He knew that things weren't right with the Clave, but this… this couldn’t be the solution.

“It’s true, Alec!” She sighed, meeting his gaze with stern assertion. “They need a political alliance quickly to restore our family name and our influence at the Clave.”

He brought this on himself. He told his mother that whatever work-around they had planned, he would oblige. When it came to Clary and her pet mundane, they tore through his life like a tornado, trailing chaos in their paths. His life was erratic, but there was structure in the madness and that redhead managed to demolish the foundation he had built in a matter of days.

And he was about to pay for the repercussions.

“I knew Clary Fray would come back to bite me in the ass.” He scoffed. “Wait, if I have to get married, what will you be doing?”

“They want me to convince the Clave to placate the Seelies somehow,” Izzy countered.

He should feel proud. After all, her relationship with the Seelies guarantees a diplomatic compromise, without having to involve the Clave. Alec never knew if they trust her completely, but she trusts Meliorn. It’s an asset. Izzy is just as capable of being consul as he is, as acting head.

In many ways, she is acting head. The responsibility falls on her and Jace when he travels.

Reports and overall command went to Izzy, while missions and orders went through Jace. She knew how to maintain order in the Institute and when to make the tough decisions. The Institute may be small in staff, but their bench was deep.

The three of them dreamed of being the Head of their own Institute one day, but the future revealed that Alec would be chosen as acting Head. It only seemed fit that Head would be his true course.

Or maybe, that was never the plan at all. Why his parents ever elected Alec to be acting head in their absence was beyond him, but they asked and he accepted. He thought he was worthy of the position. Maybe they saw value in him and wanted to give him something steady, something that would require a great deal of concentration. Something to keep him fixed, present.

Time travel wasn’t part of their plan, so Izzy was their next best option. It made sense. He should be proud.

“You’re playing the diplomat? Again? That’s _my_ job.” It was easier to feel livid than to admit that he was hurt. “That’s what I’m supposed to be doing.”

“I know that. But I’m the one with ties to the Seelies.”

“Is that what you’re calling it now?” he thought out loud.

She took the blow. “Alec, I’m on your side.”

She wasn’t going to say no to being diplomat, so how could that be true? Izzy had the least to lose by accepting this. She wasn’t going to be forced into an arranged marriage. She wasn’t being pushed into a relationship he didn’t want. By the angel, he wasn’t straight.

He… he was never straight. Even more, he had feelings for someone else. Someone he couldn’t have.

Alec felt… wounded. Damaged goods. His parents expect that someone will marry into _this_ and it would restore honor for their family? That this courtship will fix everything?

“I have followed every rule. I’ve given up everything!” He felt his anger boil, afraid his temper will trigger his ability. This wasn’t something a punching bag could fix.

Izzy realized this and approached him. “We’ll find a way out of this.”

She placed her hand on his shoulder, to console him, but he brushed it off.

“Screw the rules. Screw them. Screw all of this.” He stormed out of the training room.

Breathing felt like fire in his lungs. He need to… he needed to leave. Everything about the Institute was suffocating him and he had to escape fast. He skipped the shower and grabbed the nearest jacket he could find before he ran out the door.

 

* * *

 

 

_Where the hell are they?_

The last wave of piercing pain stirred Luke awake and the shadowhunter and mundane haven’t returned with the ingredients. Magnus feared that this would happen and if they didn’t hurry back in the next few minutes, he was going to run out of magic and lose Luke in the process.

Healing magic wasn’t a talent he was born with. There were warlocks out there, like Catarina, who were a natural with healing. It was a part of them, in their blood, to save lives without having to sacrifice any of themselves. All magic had limits, but Magnus was not blessed with it. He learned from Catarina and others; studied how different species responded to levels of pain and wounds. Of all the magic he had in his arsenal, healing took the most out of him. It wasn’t because he wasn’t good at it. In fact, it was why downworlders came to him the most. The potions, powers, and the company were the best remedies for an unexpected, wounded client.

It took the most out of him because he poured everything into healing. He liked to think that because he had no gage in how much healing would be required, it made him effective. Successful, even. It required a great deal of muscle, mind, and magic to navigate through a body. It was a two-way communication, between him and the patient. His magic fed into the body and the magic had to speak to him, to help diagnose and properly heal.

The more times he would heal, the better he understood the human form. He knew Alexander’s body inside and out. In some ways, knowing Alexander made him a better healer today.

Magnus felt his magic begin to falter. The vivid blue hue faded and his vision went spotty. He instructed Clary to stand by the potion, to add Komodo scales, but he needed her back. He needed t-… he needed to save Luke, but… his body…

Her name was supposed to leave his lips, but his mouth stopped working. He needed to call out to her, but he… was Luke screaming?

Magnus couldn’t hold on any longer. His magic had completely drained out of him, the room spinning around him… his eyes start to droop, exhausted. He…

He didn’t hit the ground.

He should have felt the ground, right about now.

Instead, he felt arms tenderly wrapped around him from behind. Clary?

No, these felt solid and familiar. They felt like…

Magnus turned to find messy, dark hair and hazel eyes. _Alexander_. If he wasn’t already weak, he would have gone weak in the knees just by the way Alec was looking at him.

And just as Catarina had told him earlier that day, Alec appeared right when he needed him the most. It felt as though they had come full circle, Magnus now asking Alec to lend a hand.

“Help me.” It took all of his remaining energy to lift his arm to Alec. “I need your strength.”

Alec looked between Magnus’ face and his extended hand. “Take what you need,” he responded and wrapped his hand around his.

They had shared strength in the past, with traveling Alec, but his energy was intermittent and faint by nature. Presently, from the moment their hands linked, Alec’s strength was magnified. His body chemistry was unlike any of their former bonds, with a level of energy Magnus didn’t expect to feed from. It was like dark matter- one drop could power a city for months- the way Alec restored his magic.

It was addictive and Magnus didn’t want to let go.

Alec tore away from his gaze and hoisted him back up to heal again. The magic Magnus poured into Luke was a force borderline manic. Luke was convulsing through the process, his body fighting against the magic. Oblivious to him and Alec, Jace and Simon returned just in time to give Clary the last of the potion ingredients to heal Luke. As Magnus had suspected, the potion was fed to Luke and the poison immediately dissolved.

And just like that, Luke returned to his natural form, smiling at Clary.

Exhausted, Magnus collapsed against Alec. With their hand still linked, Magnus loosened his grip.

Alec looked down at him, with real concern about his physical state. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Magnus replied. Alexander is here. Of course, he’s okay.

___

 

Alec didn’t want to go back to the Institute. That was his main priority before arriving at Magnus’ lair.

And now, he didn’t want to leave.

What he did for Magnus and for Luke, it was… it was a win. Of all the terrible things to happen to him in the last couple of days, it felt good to have something good come out of it. He helped save a life and for a short while, he forgot all the troubles waiting for him, just outside the door.

He didn’t want to leave.

Magnus and Jace carried Luke to the bedroom for a proper place to rest, while Alec busied himself elsewhere. Might as well make himself useful and kill some time away from the Institute. He found his way back to the main area when he spotted Clary. There was no way of entering the room without getting her attention and he wasn’t sure he was ready to face her. She’s the reason he’s here in the first place.

Alec attempts to breeze past her, towards the pile of books on the floor, but she calls out to him.

“Look, if you hadn’t gotten here in time, I…” Clary’s at a loss for words. “I’m just… I’m glad you and Jace are okay now.”

“I didn’t do this for Jace,” he corrects her. Although, it would have been a simpler explanation than why he really came.

“Then, I’m glad you did it for you.” She smiles up at him, heartfelt.

Huh. He really did. Magnus had asked for him. Jace had asked this of him. But, in the end, he didn’t do it from them. He thought for himself, brought himself here. He could have gone anywhere, away from the Institute, and he ended up here.

And just at the right moment, when Magnus needed him most.

When Magnus Bane said he needed Alec, he really needed him. His parabatai was right.

Jace entered the room and he no longer appeared irritated at him. In fact, he looked at him with that genuine smile, beaming at him. He thanked Alec and they pull into a quick hug.

Yeah, tonight was _definitely_ a win for him.

Alec felt the tingling sensations in his fingertips, his breath stuck in his throat. He barely registered the pain in his temple before he disappeared completely out of Jace’s grasp. Gone.

“I am never going to get tired of that.” Clary giggled.

Jace threw his arms up in the air. “Trust me, it never gets old,” he teased. “Get over here and help me fold some of these clothes.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This episode was such a monster, the chapter split into two :) I hope to get the rest of their evening to you soon. 
> 
> As always, thanks for reading and the response!


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"My soul is waiting,_   
>  _Patient as the moon-_   
>  _to align with yours."_
> 
>  
> 
> -Eclipse, f.Gabdon

 

The warmth of Jace’s touch still lingered as Alec found himself, face down on coarse earth, in the middle of a forest. The ringing in his ears impaled his ability to focus on his surroundings. He pushed himself off the ground and sat, with his elbows on his knees, and dug his palms into his eye sockets. Thank the heavens it was getting dark out. To be blinded by daylight would have been merciless.

He hated visits like these. There was just… trees. Trees, dirt, and more trees. It was night, but he couldn’t know what time of day or year it was. No mundanes, no buildings, nothing. Just trees.

Lately, most of his travels were to random areas of the city and because he would end up in places with no one he knew in particular, he couldn’t pinpoint himself in time. It was as though his body was telling him something, but he couldn’t figure out what it was. Things like the physical landscape of New York City or mundane tech would be visual cues, but secluded areas and impassable spaces are places he feared visiting the most.

By the angel, he hates whatever this place was. Past and future were so ambiguous when the surroundings give absolutely nothing to rely on. Alec needed to secure the area. Anything to ease the anxiety.

He turned over to sluggishly crawl to the nearest tree. As he climbed up the bark to bring himself upright to stand, he heard rustling in the distance.

Someone was running. No… he can hear more than one set of footsteps. A deer? No, the footwork was too slow to be an animal. Two people. Two people, running and huffing under their breath. Mundanes? Police?

Alec darted behind the tree where he stood and prayed that whoever they were, they weren’t after him.

“This way!”

_What. The._

That’s… that’s _his_ voice. This has to be the future.

He’s never been here before. He would remember this moment if he had visited this place.

“I don’t see them!” A woman shouts. Alec doesn’t recognize the other’s voice, but they must be working together. She doesn’t sound like Izzy or Clary. And her steps don’t emanate downworlder. Her movements suggest shadowhunter-like speed. Who is she? And why is she with Alec?

Before he had a chance to see where the two were heading, the shrill ring in his ears returned with full force. His legs were the first to go, then the rest completely disappear back to his present. He was back in Magnus’ lair, curled up against the sofa.

 

Alec kept his eyes shut, goosebumps dispersed throughout his body. He needed a moment to retune himself to his present. There were distant voices in the other room, but no one was scuffling nearby presently. He opened one eye at a time and breathed a huge sigh of relief when he spotted his dark clothes folded on top of the stark white table. Alec reached for the pile and felt his phone sitting on top of stack.

 

One unread message.

 **Jace** **(11:34)** -

_Securing the perimeter._

 

Message was sent almost an hour ago. Fuck. Sometimes traveling had to be so lopsided with its passage of time. It was either he’d be gone for mere seconds, while his visits extend for hours or days, or vice versa. He couldn’t have been in that forest for more than several minutes, yet he had been gone so long, the room felt still.

It felt so still, it was borderline like… like he was intruding. He was still sitting, back against a couch that wasn’t his, and nude. He should probably get dressed and leave.

Leave. But, he didn’t want to leave.

He’d almost forgotten why he came here in the first place. Alec didn’t want to face whatever his parents had planned for him. At least, not yet. To walk outside those doors would mean facing that fate.

Alec quickly dressed himself, but doesn’t put the jacket back on. It would feel too absolute. So, there he was, standing awkwardly in the middle of the empty living room, stumped. He didn’t want to disturb Magnus. After all, this was his personal space. For all he knew, Magnus could be sleeping by now.

What could Alec do to pass the time? He wanted to make himself useful, but what was there to do?

Books. Magnus’ books were still scattered all over the floor. He could pick them up and put them back on the shelves. But how would he know where they belong without Magnus? Maybe he was very particular about his system, the same way Alec was about his book collection at the Institute. It was probably best to tidy up and stack them into a pile for Magnus to sort through in the morning.

That task only took a couple of minutes. Jace wasn’t back yet and the feeling of imposition was creeping back. He needed to do something. Anything.

The moonlight filtering through the windows gave off a strange, glistening texture on the couch. Blood. He could clean the couch until Jace was back from patrol. But, with what? His shirt? He could go back to the Institute with his jacket zipped up. No… no, he would never hear the end of it from his siblings if he left this place shirtless.

The first place he gravitated towards was the one-off kitchen by the entryway. Potion ingredients were dispersed all over the table, still chaotic from the eventful evening. Alec grew curious about the different vials and flasks, contents he was familiar with and others that were foreign to him. The one object that took him by surprise was the wooden spoon next to the cauldron. He was surprised because it looked… mundane. It wasn’t flashy or ancient looking. It looked ordinary. Every inch of the place was a striking contrast of old and decadent, as though the excessiveness created its own sense of harmony. And then there was this wooden spoon.

By the angel, was Alec identifying himself with a wooden spoon? He was in here to find a rag of some kind, not to get sidetracked. There was just so many interesting things to look at in this place and not enough time to muse. He found what he needed and returned to the couch.

Alec wasn’t sure if he ought to thank or curse werewolf blood for being damn near impossible to clean, but the task would take longer to finish than tidying up books. Good, anything to keep him preoccupied.

“Hey,” Magnus greeted warmly. “You’re back.”

Alec hesitated. “Yeah. I-uh, I mean, if you don’t mind.” He watched Magnus saunter over to his drinking cart before he turned his focus back to the couch.

 

* * *

 

 

He came back. Alexander came back and he stayed.

Magnus wasn’t sure what to do with this development. He had only dealt with Alexander in the past, always visiting out of the blue and with an expiration date. Because that’s the nature of their relationship. He would always have to leave Magnus in the end, traveling back to his present. He got used to the leaving.

He never considered the stay. Magnus grasped the concept that one day, he would be on the other end of a visit, as someone with whom the shadowhunter would return to, but he never imagined what it would be like when Alec chooses to stay. To be around each other because he wants to, not because he has to.

So, what kind of man would he be to refuse Alexander?

“I don’t mind at all. Help yourself to anything and I mean _anything_ ,” Magnus asserted.

Magnus may have his back to Alec, but he can hear Alec pause, stunned. He smirked to himself and opened his favorite bottle of scotch. After he has poured a healthy (okay, maybe more than healthy) amount for himself, he looked over his shoulder at the other, amused by the look of determination on the shadowhunter’s face.

“You know I have magic for that, right?” Magnus mused.

Alec sighed. “I think you've exerted yourself enough for one day.”

If Alec had looked up, he would have seen Magnus’ shoulders tense, frozen by realization. A comment like that should not affect Magnus so strongly, but he couldn’t help it. His Alexander used to lecture him and care for him so deeply about his use of magic. Over the centuries, Magnus had to learn the hard way about his economic use of his own powers and how it affected his overall health. He was reckless and would expend himself without a thought to his safety.

At times, Alexander’s concerns were offhand comments, such as “Magnus, walk outside and get it yourself,” or “I’m sure you could suffer through a papercut.” And other times it would be monumental arguments, like the time Magnus tried to erase his memories of Camille Belcourt. A month after the incident, which left him unconscious and without magic for a week, Alexander appeared and Magnus would never forget the wrath in his voice and the pain in his eyes. He just… he wished that he was there to stop Magnus and scolded him for being so fucking foolish. It hurt to see Alexander in pain because he cared so deeply.

Present Alec’s comment moved him so because that kind of passion had to start somewhere.

 

It was a real damn shame he was low on so many of Alexander’s favorite drinks. He could magic more to stock up, but he didn’t want to cause more concern for Alexander. All he had left was vodka to make a dry martini. Once the other drink had been shaken and poured, Magnus turned to the shadowhunter.

“Drink break?” Magnus offered, flouncing the glasses in each hand.

He looked so worn, but Alec managed to smile as he stood up from the couch. Once Alec had dragged his feet to meet Magnus, he accepted the drink from the warlock. Having forgotten a lemon garnish for Alec’s drink, Magnus magicked the essence of lemon peel in the martini glass with his signature blue flame.

Alec looked at him, skeptical, but didn’t say anything about it. Perhaps he was distracted by the flame in his drink to even think about it.

And as it was their tradition each time Alexander visited, they raise their glass and Magnus would say, “To us.”

They clinked their glasses. Aware that a dry martini wasn’t Alec’s top choice, Magnus watched him as he sipped. The warlock grinned into his whiskey, entertained by the extreme grimace on Alec’s face.

Could Magnus even call this their tradition if this was Alec’s first drink with him? _To us_ , he would always say when they would finally meet again. It didn’t matter what version of Alec or where Magnus moved to, they always found each other and that was something worth celebrating. However, things have changed because this was the present. This wasn’t a “it’s good to see you again” cheers, it was a “it’s so good to finally meet you” kind of cheers. And from this point forward, they will find new things to celebrate together.

“Why did you ask for me?” Alec asked, bringing Magnus back from his thoughts. “Jace and Clary were both here.”

When Magnus told Jace he needed Alec, the other asked why. In the frantic state that everyone was in about Luke, did he have time to explain that blondie’s parabatai was his best friend long ago and maybe, just maybe, he wanted to desperately see him again? Would Jace have enough brain cells to grasp that? Magnus could tell him that he needed him for his energy, but would it come off as using Alec for his ability? Maybe his parabatai would get overprotective and deny him of Alexander. Thus, _virgin shadowhunter energy_ was the first thing to tumble out of his mouth.

It worked, didn’t it?

“Hmm, Jace didn’t tell you? It doesn’t matter,” Magnus said playfully, moseying towards the windows. “It was a lie anyway.” Magnus could feel Alec rolling his eyes.

“Are warlocks always this cryptic?” Alec quipped.

Years and years of befriending the enigmatic Alec and now _he_ was calling Magnus cryptic. Oh, how the tables have turned. Was this how Alexander felt every time they talked? Where each word coming out of the other’s mouth was an inside joke with a past self?

“I’m not being cryptic. I’m being coy.” When Magnus turned around to look at Alec, he found the shadowhunter unimpressed, with that crease between his brows he knew too well. “Let me spell it out for you,” Magnus began, approaching Alec slowly. “I wanted to see you again.”

Alec’s face went from baffled, to flattered, to stunned. “Why?”

That’s… a loaded question. Why? Because the memories were back.

Why? Because a dear friend waltzed back into his life.

Why? Because… because he’s Alexander.

The truth was hanging from the tip of his tongue, but wasn’t ready to let go. “Why’d you come?” Magnus retorted, turning the question back at him.

He’d forgotten how much he adored Alexander when his mouth hung, lost in thought. He could see every thought process filtering through his mind before the words spilled out. He was always careful with his words, obscuring truths about his personal life in the future. Magnus knew that he wasn’t allowed to know things about the future, but sometimes the time traveler was terrible at keeping facts straight. So, he would watch Alexander’s mouth gape, whilst in thought, waiting for whatever half-truths and slip-ups would come out of it.

However, Magnus had to keep reminding himself that this was present Alec. This Alec has no reason to lie to him because he’s new to him. New to all of this. He has no idea what half-truths he’s already let slip. What will he say next?

“I-uh. I guess… I should apologize for the other night. With the demon,” Alec confessed.

Magnus wasn’t expecting that. He looked at Alec with apprehension and decided to humor him.

Alec continued. “I broke the bond and I… I’m not sure how to explain myself, but um… You see, I have this-”

“No need to explain, Alexander,” Magnus interrupted, holding up a hand. “There’s no need to apologize for last night or tonight. Or any time in which it happens. I know you don’t have any control over it.”

Alec’s lips try to form words, but no sounds come out. The “what” and “how” inaudible, but his facial expressions say it all.

“I know because I have seen it for myself, darling. And I don’t mean last night. For centuries, I’ve met shadowhunters and downworlders who possess immeasurable powers. Most achieve it with years of training and others were born with their innate abilities. Your ability to time travel is intimate, capricious, and… _powerful_. You can’t control when you leave or where you’ll end up. It’s not easy, I know. I know this because we’ve met before. Many times, actually.”

Magnus looked into Alec’s eyes, searching for the Alexander he knew and loved.

 

“Alexander, I have known you my whole life.”

 

* * *

 

 

It’s not often someone could render Alec speechless.

Completely speechless. His mind wiped completely blank. His mouth went dry.

What could he say to that? Seconds ticked by and he still hasn’t responded to _that_.

Alec wished he was as articulate and alluring as Magnus Bane. He wished he could express how good it made him feel to meet someone who instantly knew the depth of his ability. It meant so much to him to not have to explain or apologize for who he is. And the way he said it was just… Magnus could recite the Accords and Alec would be enthralled by the musicality in his voice. He would believe anything he said.

And what he said was completely impossible. Madly, ridiculously impossible. He couldn’t possibly have enough power in him to travel through centuries to visit Magnus Bane and yet… he believed him.

There was no need for Magnus to lie to him. There was so much fire and honesty in his eyes. The way he spoke wasn’t the same as the night before, full of snark and theatricality. Magnus was… he was…

 

His phone went off, the ringtone cutting the tension in the room. Alec cursed himself for not having it on silent, but was thankful for the distraction from the revelation. He picked up the call before he glanced at the caller ID.

“Hey,” Alec croaked.

“Alec.” His mother had a talent to even make his own name sound like a disappointment.

He closed his eyes and wished he checked the ID before picking up. “Hi, moth-”

Maryse wasted no time interrupting him. “You were supposed to check in two hours ago. I don’t care what measures you need to take, but I need you back here with Jace and Clary in an hour. Period.”

“Of course,” he responded.

The line goes dead. Luckily, there was no urgency finding the two. It was a matter of getting them home. He could care less about what Clary was doing at the moment, but whatever her next plan was, it probably doesn’t include heading back to the Institute. God knows what she’ll do next in her aimless crusade, but wherever she goes, Jace will follow. When did acting Head mean so little to them?

“Duty calls.” Alec turned around and immediately relaxed at the sight of Magnus.

“Oh, the furrowed brow. Maryse must be recruiting you for something... unseemly.” Magnus reckoned, with lightness in his voice.

Alec starts to find more excuses to stay the longer he remains in Magnus’ presence. For starters, he should finish his drink, no matter how awful it tasted. As long as Jace was still gone, Alec could stay for however long as he pleased. And, oh yeah, _that_. How could he get back to that discussion?

“Listen, Magnus. I- what you said…,” Alec begins, but couldn’t find the right words to articulate. “I just... I don't know what-”

Magnus put one of the glasses down and brought his free hand up to Alec’s lips. The proximity between the index finger to his lips sent a charge up Alec’s spine, halting his train of thought.

“I understand,” Magnus said. He lowered the finger that held Alec in place and picked up the martini glass to hand back to Alec. “Stay for one more drink? And I’ll explain.”

 

The excuses just keep piling on. Magnus was offering one more drink, so who was he to refuse him? When he was looking up at him with his glittering eyes, there was no way he could turn him down. In addition, he was the High Warlock of Brooklyn. In a way, this was a loose interpretation of a… a diplomatic meeting. His parents had their opinions about him, but this was his opportunity to form his own.

And that opinion was that Magnus Bane was… mesmerizing. How does someone like Magnus get someone like him as a friend? A life-long friend?

Turning to liquid courage, Alec downs the remainder of his drink in two gulps. “Eugh. That’s disgusting.” He hands the glass back to Magnus, stunned and impressed at the sudden change.

Magnus chuckled. “Yes darling, I figured.”

He takes the glass away and snaps a new glass of water with ice into Alec’s hand. “Take a seat and I’ll get you something more satisfying.”

“What are you drinking?” Alec asked.

“This is a Royal Brackla, one of my personal favorites.” Magnus takes a swig and savors every hint of spice and smoke, smacking his lips together.

“Oh, uh, would you mind if I-”

“This isn’t a drink to consume like shots, Alexander,” he teased, pointing out the martini glass in full view. “However, I believe I have another scotch that will suit you well.”

Alec gulped the entirety of the glass of water while Magnus poured his drink. He made his way back to the couch to pick up the rag he abandoned earlier, but the warlock snapped the couch clean and the rag immediately disappeared from Alec’s reach. All while his attention was to the drink cart. Magnus shouldn’t have to waste his magic for him. He’s been through a lot tonight and the last thing he should be doing is waste it away to entertain him.

Magnus makes his way around the couch to join him and they both take a seat together. As Magnus hands him his drink, he scooches closer to the warlock. They clink their glasses again and take a sip. The grimace on Alec’s face wasn’t as severe as before, but he immediately went in for another. It tasted like… apples? Something fruity, but also sour. It was strong, but it was pleasant.

“Oh! Where are my manners? You must be famished!” Magnus exclaimed. He snapped a plate of pepperoni pizza and garlic bread onto the table in front of Alec.

His stomach was growling by the new aroma that filled the room, but he digressed. “Magnus, you don’t have to use your magic and tire yourself out for me.”

“Nonsense. I’m fine, Alexander,” the other assured. “Your strength restored enough magic to last me the year. You, on the other hand, must be exhausted from… do you mind me asking where you traveled off to?”

Huh. Alec was used to having Izzy and Jace worry about him and asking about his whereabouts. Or whenabouts. It was… it was ingrained in their dynamic. His parents rarely seek him out about his travels. He wasn’t used to having new people take a keen interest in him and when someone does, it always makes him feel uncomfortable to have to talk about it. It feels like picking at an old scab.

And then there’s Magnus. There was something about Magnus that makes this whole interaction feel so… familiar. Comfortable. _There’s nothing to be ashamed of_ , he said to him the other night. He knew all the right words to make him feel… nice. Maybe sharing his travels with Magnus won’t feel like excuses because he just gets it. They were friends once, after all.

“I’m not sure. I was in a forest, there was running, and I heard myself yelling in the distance.” Alec leans forward to put his glass down on the table, in favor of grabbing the pizza. “Then, poof. Here I am.” He takes a big bite.

“Do you remember being there before?”

Alec shook his head, his mouth full. “Fut-”

“Future,” Magnus finished in unison. They both shared a small smile at the exchange. Magnus’ face was the first to fall, a thought suddenly popped into his head. “Alexander, what is it like to… go? I mean, I know what it was like to see you appear and then vanish, but what is it like to be the one going?”

What is it like? Does he really not know? “It’s… it feels like… carpet pulled from right underneath. It’s a migraine that never goes away. It’s something iratzes can’t fix. Sometimes, it’s violent and other times… other times it’s the quietest part of my day. Last night, when I was here, I revisited my ten-year-old self. To the night I first traveled. Ever. Time travel is seeing things from a new perspective and other times it’s a curse knowing things in the future. And of course, all of this happens when I’m, you know-”

“Naked.” Magnus smirked into his sip of scotch. “I know.”

Alec’s cheeks felt warm. Magnus said that they have met in the past, but he had forgotten that it would mean he’s _seen_ Alec before. “So, you’ve seen…”

“Everything,” Magnus annunciated every syllable and winked.

His blush had spread from his face to the rest of his body. Although he was fully dressed, he felt exposed, as though Magnus was undressing him with his eyes. He felt vulnerable and… flattered. It didn’t feel uncomfortable and he wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because it didn’t feel like Magnus was intruding. He was remembering.

“Magnus? We… I mean, we never-”

“No! No.” Magnus snorted. “We never had sex. Just friends. I mean, for the first third of my life, I thought you were…”

Alec watched as Magnus tried to explain himself, his fingers rubbing together while lost in thought. It caught Alec’s attention because he had the same habit. He would catch himself doing that when he was stressed or deep in thought. Earlier when he was saying sorry, Magnus lips pouted the same way when he would be upset about something. It dawned on Alec that perhaps the reason he felt comfortable around Magnus was because he saw a little bit of himself… in Magnus? By the angel, he needed to find another way to paraphrase that.

He was so distracted by Magnus’ little mannerisms, he missed the last part of his story. “I was a what?”

“A demigod from my homeland. Or a ghost of some kind. You were too good to be true.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Alec deadpanned.

“Truly.” Magnus grabs Alec’s hand, still holding the pizza, and pulls the pizza towards his mouth for a bite.

The warlock’s fingertips were cool from the drinking glass, which sent goosebumps up Alec’s arm. The touch came and went so fast, Alec wished the gestured had lasted longer.

“Magnus, how did we meet?”

 

* * *

 

 

 _Uh oh_. What was he supposed to say?

It’s as though the roles are now reversed. He is the traveler and Alexander’s the one in the present. And a traveler can’t reveal anything in the future. This time, it’s Alec’s future. It was gnawing at Magnus’ insides to keep all these stories from the very person he shared the memories with. Hell, he wanted to talk to Alexander right now and ask him what to do in a situation like this?

Half-truths and slip-ups. Alexander had a terrible habit of choosing his words carefully, twisting the truth, and dancing around it. Now, the student has become the teacher.

“On the day we met, let’s just say that I took your breath away.” Magnus teased. Very close to the truth, yet very open to interpretation. He doesn’t need to know that he practically choked him on their first encounter. Not yet.

Alec placed the pizza down and grabbed his glass. “And how long ago was that?” he inquired before taking a sip.

“When I was eight years old.”

“And that was…?”

Magnus narrowed his eyes, catching Alec at his own game. He used to ask Alexander the same questions about the future that exact way. He always wondered how far into the future he had to wait until he and Alexander were both in the present, but the shadowhunter would narrow his eyes and tell him that he’s just going to have to wait and see.

“You’re just going to have to wait and see.” It felt good to finally be the one to say that.

Alec groaned. “So, this is what it’s like to be me.”

Magnus threw his head back in laughter. “I bet your sister and parabatai have it worse than I do.”

Alec allowed himself to chuckle. “Yes and no. I had to learn how to be evasive, but I wasn’t so careful when I was younger.”

“You kept the secret about your younger brother pretty well, darling.” Magnus blurted out.

“I… I told you that?”

 _Busted_. He kept forgetting who he was talking to. Magnus had finally found that ease he and Alexander had in their visits together, where they could talk for hours. And then Alec would say something like that and Magnus would have to pull back. Which, actually, he did have to physically pull back. Somehow, Magnus found himself leaning towards Alec, their bodies getting closer together on the couch.

“I… yes, you did. In retrospect, you never did tell me his name,” Magnus reassured him.

Alec’s shoulders relaxed. “Oh, his name is Max. What else have I told you?”

Magnus had to tread lightly. He had to remember facts, not stories. “Well…,” he started. He may have the memories back, but he had to sort through hundreds of visits to get the facts straight. “I know that your parents give you a hard time, but I didn’t know until yesterday that you were a Lightwood. You told me all these wonderful things about Isabelle and I didn’t realize how tall she was.”

“You mean, short?”

“No, _tall_. She’s a presence. That’s more than what I can say about Jace. You used to tell me about your rune being in pain, but I didn’t realize it was because he was a pain in the ass.”

Magnus got a titter out of Alec this time.

“And you… aside from the several times I’ve had to heal you, I had no idea time travel was painful for you. Either you hid it pretty well or… I don’t know. But most of the time, you were happy. At least, I’d like to think you were happy to see me.”

When Alec met his eyes, Magnus held his gaze. He knew that Alec believed him, but his expression was both tired and perplexed. It was the truth, but the mere concept of happiness wasn’t registering for the shadowhunter.

“You look like you’re having a hard time.”

Alec looked away, bringing his pursed lips together to that pout when he felt distraught. Magnus wanted to reach over and wipe that pout off his face. Didn’t he hear what he said earlier. He was happy in the future. He leaned his head forward to recapture Alec’s attention. By doing so, their faces would only be inches apart.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” Magnus whispered to him.

Alec’s eyes were darting between his eyes and lips, which made Magnus’ heart thud against his chest. Magnus had seen Alexander more than a hundred times in the past and knows what he looked like, from head to toe. However, perhaps absence does make the heart grow fonder. Over a hundred years without Alexander and it was now he realized how plump Alec’s lips were. They looked so… soft. The flesh was the most beautiful shade of pink he’s ever seen. And his eyelashes. He would know Alec’s hazel eyes anywhere, but he didn’t know how naturally stunning his eyelashes were. Magnus had to work to get his lashes to even curl. Was Alexander always this attractive?

Another ringtone brought them out of their trance, pulling away from each other. This time, it was Magnus’ phone. RAPHAEL, the caller ID said.

 

 _Shit_ , Magnus thought. “I have to take this.”

“It’s fine.” Alec cleared his throat and took a large swig of the remaining scotch.

Magnus had to step out the room. “Raph, I’m so sorry.”

“You blew me off for a werewolf.” Raphael snapped.

“I wasn’t healing just any werewolf. Luke Garroway is the new alpha leader of the New York pack.”

Raphael sighed. “He’s still there?”

“Yeah. Still healing, but he should be well rested and out of here by morning. I can come to you by then.”

“That would be best. I don’t want the first thing I smell in your new lair to be of werewolf blood, amigo.”

“I think it brings life to this space.” Magnus countered.

“When you come by in the morning, keep the dad jokes to a minimum.” Raphael hung up.

The warlock smiled down at his phone. He would have loved to have Raphael’s company tonight, but as High Warlock, the job comes with its unpredictable hours with clients. Even more so with the return of Valentine, Clary, and Alexander.

 

When Magnus walked back to the room, he found Alec with his elbow propped up on the arm of the couch, asleep and drooling into the hand holding his head up. Magnus snapped away the glasses and food on the table and summoned a pillow, placed behind Alec’s head, and a blanket haphazardly covering his frame. Magnus too felt the wave of exhaustion, but he needed to check in on Luke. He glances one last time at Alec, the shadowhunter sinking into the pillow and blanket. A tender smile formed on Alec’s face and then the soft snoring continued.

“Sleep well, Alexander.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again for the comments and kudos!
> 
> Happy Bi Visibility Day to my son, Magnus Bane ♥


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Perhaps somewhere, someday, at a less miserable time, we may see each other again."_
> 
> -Vladimir Nabokov

 

Activity was at a low buzz when Jace returned to the Institute in the middle of the night. There were no signs of Maryse, Robert, or Hodge at Ops or around the living quarters. Slipping in and out of the Institute should be quick and easy.

He slowly turned the doorknob to his room and entered, before gently closing the door from the inside. The objective was to grab a change of clothes for himself and Clary. Perhaps clean the wound on his face as well. A splash of cold water to the face should wake him up. He doubts he will get a good night’s sleep at this rate. It was after he shut off the water in the bathroom he heard his door open and shut. With his face still soaked, he snatched a towel and stormed into the bedroom to find out who it was.

Izzy walked over to him, wearing a zipped up hoodie and shorts. Her concerned face showed no signs of sleep.

“How’s Luke?” she asked.

“Better.” Jace dried his face and threw the towel into the bathroom. “He’s with Clary now, still at Magnus’.”

Izzy nodded. “What are you doing back here?”

“Change of clothes.” Jace grabbed the duffle bag off the floor and started to peruse his dresser. “What are you still doing up?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she hummed.

“Mm. Waiting up for Alec?”

“No. Just… stuff.”

Jace huffed. “What did Maryse do now?”

“She didn’t do… It’s…” Izzy looked down at her hands. “Meliorn and I are done.”

“What?!” He whipped his head around. “Did he do something to you, Iz? If he hurt you, I swe-”

“Jace, no! He didn’t do anything. I just need to focus on myself right now. That’s all,” she reassured him.

After he zipped up the duffel bag and tossed it by the door, Jace hugged Izzy tight. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s for the best,” she muffled into his chest before releasing him.

He looked down at Izzy, now aware of the glum look in her eyes. “You should get some rest. One of us has to.”

“Yeah.” She gave him a tired smile. “By the way, Max is here. He misses you so much.”

Jace broke into a huge grin. “Yeah? Tell him I’ll see him tonight!”

His infectious smile echoed on Izzy’s face. “You should have seen him earlier. Mini Alec was here, too. Chasing each other through the halls and playing hide-and-seek.” Izzy giggled. “I even sat with Max, while Alec was testing him with Rune cards. It was hilarious!”

Jace’s eyebrows shot up. “I can’t believe I missed that!”

“Well, you once got to see Alec, with little him AND older him, all at once! The trifecta!” She poked his chest. “We’re even, hombre.”

Even through the daily stress of keeping up with a time traveling shadowhunter, Jace and Izzy still marvel at any instance of an Alec visiting the present because Alec himself never felt joy in having this ability. Lately, he hardly talked about his visits when he returned, which made witnessing even the most bizarre visits more remarkable.

“Where is Alec, by the way?”

“Last I saw him, he was asleep on Magnus Bane’s couch.”

Izzy’s eyes brightened. “Really?”

Jace paced the room. “He needs the rest. He helped Magnus heal Luke, then he traveled. With him gone and Clary talking to Luke, I decided to check the perimeter. When I got back, Alec was sound asleep on the couch.”

It was rare to get Alec to rest after a mission, let alone after traveling. He would exhaust himself regularly, to the point where both Jace and Izzy would force him into his own bed. They would cover for him and make sure he ate before he could train or patrol again. As they grew older, Alec became reluctant accepting help, but the two of them vowed to take care of him no matter what. It was all that Jace knew from the moment he joined the Lightwood family.

Izzy walked towards the bathroom to pick the towel off the floor. “Are you two okay?” she asked, while folding.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” he said, as though he was trying to convince himself, rather than answer her. “We’re good, Iz.”

She crossed her arms. “Are you sure?”

“It’s Alec, come on. We can never stay mad at each other. It’s- We’re fine.” Jace snatched his jacket and bag.

“Okay. Well, if he’s not back by daylight, I’ll work on the reports.” She placed the towel on the bed and walked towards the door to check the hallway. Clear. “Where will you be?”

“Not sure. Hopefully Clary figured something out by now.” They both left the bedroom, carefully closing the door behind them.

“Be careful,” she whispered.

With the duffel bag over one shoulder, he reached out to Izzy with his free hand and squeezed their joined hands before they parted, in opposite directions.

When Jace returned to the loft, Alec was nowhere to be seen. Instead of finding his parabatai on the couch, he spotted Magnus Bane instead, lounging with a book.

“I don’t suppose you know where Alexander went,” Magnus presumed, as he flipped through page after page with audible force.

Before Jace had the chance to reply or check his phone, Clary rushed into the room.

“Good! You’re both here!” She turned around, back towards them. “Where’s Alec? I know where the Cup is.”

 

* * *

 

 

Alec couldn’t recall the last time he has walked into the Institute and didn’t feel like shit. Two hours of sleep, awkwardly curled on a leather couch, left a slight pain in the back of his neck. Nothing a bit of training could undo, if he hadn’t gone on a spontaneous patrol around the neighborhood when he woke up. He’d been on his feet until the break of dawn and then some, securing the perimeter one last time around the loft. He was beat.

It was one of those nights where he couldn’t get his mind to shut off. The more time he spent away from it all, from the Institute and from Magnus Bane, the more that came to light.

It was one thing to hear from Isabelle that he would be forced into a political marriage, but it was another thing to realize that he had yet to face his parents when they would tell him the news in person. What would he say? He had already confided with Maryse that he was willing to do anything to restore honor to the Lightwood name. They needed to at least give him a sense of agency in the decision process, right?

And then, there’s Magnus Bane. Alec had yet to fully process the magnitude of the situation with the High Warlock of Brooklyn. What did he really know about him? Other than what he heard from his parents and what was on file at the Institute, he knew very little about Magnus. But Magnus knew him. By the angel, does he know him. _I have known you my whole life,_ he said. Alec had seen the pictures of the warlock, through the decades and all over the world, and heard the rumors and history about Magnus Bane in the shadow world. Was Alec a part of that history? How far back did it go? How often did they meet? A few times? Dozens? Hundreds?

Alec thought about returning to Magnus to ask him about all these things, but he wasn’t mentally fit to face him at all. When he spoke, Alec was fixated. He couldn’t think when Magnus speaks. Only when Alec left the loft for some fresh air, he was able to think again. He was sleep deprived, running on a rune-enabled kick, and feeling a bit sick from the scotch. If he couldn’t string a thought together when he was “sober”, what chance did he have talking to him then?

He paced in front of the building, gathering up the courage to walk in, only to immediately coming back out again. He did this a few times until a man with luscious hair and kind eyes came up to the building and asked for Luke. A second later, Luke walked out to meet with the man, obtaining the clothes handed to him by… was his name Eric? Alaric? Luke dismissed him, telling him that he will be at the station soon.

Luke glanced at Alec and gave him a dashing smile, extending a hand. “Thank you. Clary told me what you did last night. I owe you and Magnus my life.”

He accepted the gesture. “How are you feeling?”

“Fantastic,” Luke deadpanned. “Listen, Alec. May I?” He pointed to the phone in Alec’s hand. After he handed it to Luke, the werewolf dialed his number. “If there’s anything I can do to return the favor, in any way, don’t hesitate to call.”

“Thanks.” Alec tucked his phone away.

“We leave in an hour for the police station. Will you be joining us?” he asked.

 _Oh_. If there’s one thing a time traveler had to avoid at all costs, it was the police. To have no control over time travel means showing up naked in either the busiest, the most private, or the most dangerous places in New York City. To his knowledge, he has yet to be arrested, but who knew how many mundane cops recognized him. Just thinking about it made him feel nauseous.

“I, uh… I should head back to the Institute.” Alec replied, rubbing the back of his head in discomfort.

“Of course.” Luke graciously left Alec to head back upstairs.

 

“Slept at Magnus' place?” Izzy muses. Already? Alec had walked into the Institute for all of two seconds.

“Didn't do much sleeping,” Alec calls over his shoulder. “I was helping treat Luke's wounds. That's all.”

“Really?” Her tone implying something else entirely.

He stops in his tracks and turns around. “What?”

“Nothing. I believe you.” She gives him a pointed look.

After scanning the room for anyone in earshot, Alec leans in with a hushed tone, “Magnus made cocktails, but nothing else happened. Okay?”

Izzy gives him an endearing smile. “You know you can be honest with me, right? I’m here for you if you ever want to talk.”

“Hey, I talk to you,” he says.

“Really? So, were you gonna tell me that you also traveled last night?” she counters.

Alec groans. “Jace told you that?”

“Of course he did, it’s what we do. How much sleep did you get? You look like hell.”

“See? This is why we don’t do talks. I’m fine.” He starts to make his way towards the corridors.

“That’s not fair!” She chases after him. “I talk to you about my personal life all the time.”

“That’s because you have one.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t. We talk about everything but your personal life. Like…”

Alec stops at the threshold of the corridors. “Like?”

Izzy narrows the gap between them. “What kind of cocktails?” she whispers teasingly.

“Oh, for crying out loud.” He rolls his eyes and walks away. “I need to find Hodge.”

“He’s in the kitchen!” Izzy yells after him, grinning.

 

* * *

 

 

There weren’t many places left in New York that made Magnus feel safe and homely outside of his own lair. Werewolves often choose a place of business, such as bars and restaurants, although they tend to be breakable and despicably decorated. Seelies favor nature, with their sanctuaries aesthetically pleasing to the eye but also vulnerable to outside forces. Vampires were both lavish and practical with their choice of “living” spaces. Hotel DuMort was a perfect example of a place where a clan can coexist in an exquisite labyrinth, where tunnels connect them to the outside world despite the time of day.

In light of the Circle hunting down warlocks, the High Warlock should be staying out of sight, but the High Warlock rarely listens to common sense.

“If I had known that Valentine was hunting warlocks again, I would’ve told you to stay put.” Raphael walked beside Magnus through the halls of Hotel DuMort, synchronized stride by stride. They made their way to the bar, their drinks already made by the time they settled into their stools.

“Thought you didn’t want the stench of werewolf to ruin your visit,” Magnus defied with a pout.

“I was being difficult. Camille and the mundane have been driving me loco the last few days.”

“Why did you go after him anyways? Why not Clarissa?”

Raphael scoffed. “At this point, I’m not sure. It was obvious he knew nothing and she still interrogated him.”

“Did she-” Magnus points at his neck.

“Yeah.”

“And she let him live?”

“I let him live. Too many vampires were being killed because of him.”

“Because of Clarissa,” Magnus corrected.

“Whatever. Point is, he was causing too much trouble and killing him would have been grounds for war.” Raphael chugged the rest of his bloody mary.

“Luke Garroway is important to him, too. Now that he’s the alpha, the Fairchilds and Simon are untouchable.” Magnus ordered another round of drinks for them.

“I want nothing to do with the mundane, anyways.”

Magnus hummed. “Has he tried to come back?”

“Dios, yes.” The other rolled his eyes, exhausted. “I caught him outside, lingering at night like an idiot. I think I scared him off enough for him to never come back.”

“Raph, he’ll be back. You know as well as I do that he will.”

When it comes to Camille, it’s been difficult maintaining order amongst the clan under her leadership. She’s become greedy, malicious, and precarious in breaking the Accords, only to get away with it one too many times. Between Magnus and Raphael, putting out fires was becoming more of a hassle in recent years and frankly, Raphael was getting tired of having to clean up after her. Under Magnus’ guidance, he has learned how to read her, understand the way her mind works, and how to control her to an extent. And it was clear the night of Simon’s kidnapping that Camille only thinks for herself, not for the wellbeing of the clan. Now, they have a lovesick mundane on the loose.

“When he does come back, I’ll make sure it will be the last time he sets foot on property,” Raphael promised.

They clinked their glasses and took another sip. Magnus looked down at his phone, sifting through his messages before putting it away.

“Expecting someone?” Raphael asked.

Magnus breathed a long sigh. “Not exactly.”

“Is this about Alejandro?”

“No, I-” Magnus’ phone began to ring, dancing on the surface of the bar.

Caller ID said CATARINA. Magnus answered the call. “Hello?”

“Are you home? I’m outside your building, but I can’t get in,” she replied.

“I’m with Raphael. Walk through the doors and a portal will be there for you in a minute.” Magnus covered the receiver with his hand- directing his attention to Raphael. “Would you mind if Catarina joined us?”

“Not at all. Tell her to come through the tunnels.” Raphael stood up to command one of the vampires hovering nearby to find Catarina and bring her up.

“I see the portal.” She ended the call. Several minutes later, the unmistakable sound of hurried steps echoed through the halls before she appeared before them. Catarina brought Raphael in for a half-hug, one kiss to the cheek to greet him.

“Hi, hi. I’m loving this.” She points to his jacket, a royal blue pattern with gold detailing.

“It’s been too long.” Raphael beamed.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt, but I have to check in on this.” She tapped her finger onto Magnus’ temple before he brushed it off.

“By all means. He was just about to mope about Alejandro.”

“I was not,” Magnus protested.

Catarina swatted his shoulder. “You still haven’t called him?”

“I did! But then Luke- And I ran out of magic- And then Clary, I MEAN Alec-”

“Catarina, are you sure his memories are back?” Raphael badgered.

“I don’t know… Couldn’t hurt to check, right?” she played along.

“I hate you both,” the warlock grumbled, wearied.

Catarina tsk-ed mockingly. “Yeah, something’s definitely wrong.”

 

* * *

 

 

And for the seventh time, Alec was knocked to the ground, winded from another round of sparring. Hodge would typically give Alec a chance to land a few blows before besting him for a few rounds, but today was something else. Alec’s footwork was messy, his combinations weak and disconnected.

“You’re distracted, Alec. Your technique is sloppy,” Hodge criticized, pointing the bo staff down at Alec on the ground.

Alec let out a frustrated huff as he pushed himself back up. “I didn’t get enough sleep, that’s all.”

Hodge circled around Alec, spinning the staff around. “Bullshit. Hasn’t stopped you before.”

Alec advanced on him for another round, the two dancing around each other’s footwork with each hit. The younger was too focused on his technique to realize Hodge had forced the staff out of his dominant arm and jabbed his right side. With Alec keeling over, Hodge took the opportunity to smack the back of his knee and completely knock him off his feet. Alec landed flat on his back, the air knocked out of him. With his staff just out of his reach, Hodge kicked the other’s staff up into his grasp and pointed the weapon at Alec.

Training was supposed to be a coping mechanism, a way to clear his mind when things get complicated. If he could focus on something technical, most things would sort themselves out eventually. This, however, wasn’t how Alec thought training would turn out for him. He still couldn’t shut his mind off about his parents and, truthfully, Magnus. A big part of him realizes that one of his parents will seek him out about their plans soon enough, but a small part of him hopes that Magnus Bane will call him again.

It was after he settled back into the Institute that Alec realized he left Magnus’ place last night without saying goodbye. Or thank you. Magnus Bane was nothing but accommodating and cordial and Alec just… left him.

Hodge bent down on one knee to hover over Alec. “Where are Jace and Clary? Heard you were with them last night.”

“I don’t know, Hodge.”

“You’re not hung up on that girl, are you? I’ve seen the way Jace looks at her.” Hodge holds the staff above Alec and drops it onto his torso.

 _Ugh_. “I’d rather have Izzy cook for me for the rest of my life.” Alec lifts a hand up to Hodge to hoist himself back up.

“Well, whatever’s on your mind, let it go. If I could beat your ass seven rounds in a row-” Hodge charges at Alec.

A minute into their training run, Izzy rushes in and interrupts their momentum. “Alec, Jace needs backup. We leave in ten.”

With Hodge’s back towards Alec, the shadowhunter takes the chance and whips his staff between his mentor’s legs, knocking him to the floor. Hodge lands face flat, rubbing his nose from the impact.

Serves him right for thinking he had any feelings for Clary.

 

After a quick shower and change of clothes, Alec makes his way to the armory to fetch his bow and quiver. He barely makes it through the main floor when he hears his father call out to him.

“We need to talk. Both of you,” Robert stresses.

Alec continues to walk, his father tailing him. “Can it wait? Jace called for backup.”

“Jace? Where is he?”

“I have the coordinates,” Izzy chimes in, joining them. “We’ll talk about it when we get back. We need to go.”

“Hold on. Follow me.” Robert walks them over to the armory, glancing over his shoulder to make sure no one else was following them in. “Look, your mother and I-”

“If this is about marrying me off to someone, Izzy already told me.” Alec retrieves his quiver to analyze the collection of arrows.

Robert crosses his arms and looks at Izzy. “I thought we were going to wait until your mother told him.”

“Dad, he deserves to know,” she argued.

“Fine, okay. There’s something else we need to discuss, but it can wait until tomorrow. I’ll need all three of you there, are we clear?” Robert said, pointing at each one of them.

They both nod. With his bow finally in tow, Alec and Izzy leave for the police station.

 

* * *

 

 

What was supposed to be a quick excursion to catch up with Raphael turned into an hour-long chat between Catarina and Raphael about Magnus, specifically the two exchanging stories about Magnus’ behavior when Alec wasn’t around.

Catarina asked, “¿Era siempre ansioso cuando las cosas caerían al suelo?” _Was he always anxious when things fall to the floor?_

“¡Sí! Recuerdo cuando se me cayó un plato en el fregadero y Magnus corriendo de la ducha desnudo.” _Yes! I remember when I dropped a bowl in the sink and Magnus ran out of the shower naked._

“¡Me asustaste!” _You scared me!,_ Magnus exclaimed.

“From the bathroom??” Raphael disputed.

“I can’t count the number of times I would come home and he would call out ‘Alexander?’, only to realize it was just me.” Catarina laughed. “Raph, he would literally drop anything when that shadowhunter dropped in.”

“The idiota walks back into his life and I don’t hear from him for three days.”

“Two,” Magnus countered.

“Like I care.” Raphael gets up for another drink. “Another?”

Catarina waves him off. “I’m good, thanks.”

As the vampire walked away, Magnus snapped another drink into his grasp. “Just because I can summon another drink, doesn’t mean I don’t like to be ASKED EVERY ONCE IN A WHILE,” he shouts the last part of the sentence over to the other.

Raphael answered with the middle finger.

Magnus rolled his eyes. “What’s his deal?”

“Do you remember how Ragnor used to be when you first introduced him to Alec?” she reminisced. “Standoffish, snarky,-”

“Pfft. He’s like that with everybody.”

“Point is, Ragnor couldn’t understand the relationship between the two of you, but he eventually came around.”

“Are you saying Raphael’s jealous?” Magnus was skeptical.

“No, he’s just worried.” She sighed. “I am, too.”

“Why? You know Alec.”

“Probably better than anyone.”

She gave him a small smile, the weight of her words finally sinking into Magnus. Of course, she knows. She’s had to sift through centuries worth of memories in his head, recounting each one as though she was seeing them through his eyes. Feeling what he felt. It was sobering to realize the impact the time traveler has made in Magnus’ life, made only evident by the lengths the warlock would go to protect him.

Before, if Magnus was difficult in Alec's absence, at least Catarina always had Ragnor by her side. While Ragnor remained overseas, she confided in Raphael. It was refreshing to see things from his perspective, picking up on Magnus’ habits from someone who had never met Alec. And when his memories were suppressed, she had to limit her visits with Magnus, afraid of what her presence might trigger. But, thankfully, Raphael was there to keep an eye on him. From what he has told her, that version of Magnus was cocky, yet focused. His main priority was to protect the warlocks and uphold his reputation as High Warlock.

Raphael returned to them, aware of the deafening silence between them. Catarina gave him a look that expressed that she wanted to bring up the main reason why they wanted to speak with Magnus. He took a deep breath and sat beside her, the two looking at Magnus with the same look of concern.

“Magnus, look,” Catarina starts. “We just wanted to make sure now that Alec is back in your life, you don’t do anything-”

“Stupid.” Raphael interrupts.

“I was gonna say ‘drastic’, but that works.”

Magnus brooded, his face twisted in aversion.

“All we’re saying is,” Raphael decides to continue, “you just got your memories back. Felicidades. We just want to be sure you don’t do something like that again, for the sake of Alejandro.”

“I didn’t do it for him-” Magnus cuts in.

“We know! But Magnus, we… you’re needed. Remember, you’re High Warlock of Brooklyn.” Catarina gestures towards Magnus, using her hands to express her point. “At a time like this, we can’t afford to lose you. The downworlders are counting on you. And I know he’s not here, but Alec would say the same thing.”

“Valentine is still out there. You want to protect Alec? Stay low for a while and keep your distance.” Raphael said.

Magnus had to give his friends some credit for knowing how to get under his skin. He gave up Alec once, placing the protection and wellbeing of his kind first, but that was a different time. It was during Valentine’s first reign of terror and Alec had been out of his life for over 100 years. Now, Clarissa was on her way to retrieve the Cup and Valentine’s return was no coincidence. And Alexander was now in his present. He could come in and out of his life as he pleases, but Magnus has to decide if it was worth getting involved at a time like this.

There’s no time for distractions. But on the other hand, the High Warlock rarely listens to common sense.

 

* * *

 

 

The station wasn’t far from the Institute, yet the walk over there felt like an eternity. For the first few blocks, they walk together in silence, Alec feeling his sister’s gaze from the corner of his eye. He tries to pick up the speed, but even in her heels, she was quick to catch up.

Somewhere along the halfway point, Izzy breaks the silence. “What do you think tomorrow’s meeting is about?”

“Probably how they’re gonna disown me if we don’t bring Jace and Clary home from doing God knows what.”

“Alec.”

“They were supposed to be back at the Institute before the first briefing. It’s been four hours, Izzy.”

“You don’t think he and Clary are-”

“At a police station? Not possible,” Alec replied. “At least, when you’re with Meliorn, you have the good graces to check in every once in a while.”

“I broke up with Meliorn.”

He stops in the middle of the sidewalk, as the mundanes continue to pass around them, and stares at his sister.

“He was a bit much. I decided I needed some time for myself and maybe find someone more like… me.” She crosses her arms, pursing her lips together.

“Izzy,” Alec says comprehensively. “I realize that you're trying to take some of the family heat, and I appreciate it, but you can't change who you are.”

She scoffs. “And I don’t suppose you’re going to say no to mom and dad to getting married.”

Alec opens his mouth, but decides not to open that door and walks away.

“Alec! You don’t have to do this! Do you really think this marriage is going to make you happy?” Izzy exclaimed.

“Are you happy now that you broke up with Meliorn?”

She doesn’t reply. They stop at a crosswalk, minutes away from the station. The silence dragged on while the signal remained unchanged.

“I’m sorry,” Alec sighed apologetically.

“You can’t change who you are.” Izzy looked up at Alec. The traffic light changes and they walk, taking in the weight of those words. When they reach the other side, Izzy continues her train of thought. “Your traveling isn’t going to stop once you get married. I mean, outside of this family and outside of the Institute, no one out there understands what you go through.”

“That’s not true,” Alec counters.

Izzy’s eyes squint in confusion, mouth gaping. “What do you mean? Who else knows?”

They noticed a block away that activity grew frenzied the closer they got to the police station. The two stopped just around the corner from the police station, as Alec glances around the vicinity to make sure no mundane in uniform can see his face, and pulls his sister aside.

He takes a deep breath. “Magnus Bane knows that I can travel,” he confesses.

“Well, yeah. He saw you when we were with the memory demon.”

“No! Izzy, listen. He knows because he said he’s known me his entire life.” It felt terrifying and liberating to admit it out loud.

“Magnus,” she said, in shock. “You’re sure.”

“Yeah.”

“Magnus. Magnus Bane.”

“Why are you repeating his name?” he asked.

Izzy raised her eyebrows. “You’re not freaked out about this?”

“I... no? I don’t know.”

“Alec, he’s immortal! He’s the High Warlock-”

“-of Brooklyn. I know,” he muttered.

“You said he has known you his entire life. His _entire_ life! Alec, hermano, you oblivious idiot.”

Alec hated it when she smiled at him like that when he completely missed a point.

Izzy spells it out for him. “You just admitted that Magnus Bane, that sexy warlock, is going to be a huge part of your life. He may have known you his whole life, but you will know him for the rest of _your_ life.”

Alec wanted to bang his head against the brick wall where he stood. She’s right. Of course, she right. Why didn’t he realize this sooner? This realization could not have come at a worse time, yards away from the police station, where his parabatai stood waiting. Magnus Bane was his future. In what way? He couldn’t say. Didn’t want to say. His parents had plans. He had other plans. Plans that didn’t include a glittering, magical warlock. Why Magnus Bane? More importantly, why him?

“What happened last night?” Izzy tried to distract Alec from overthinking.

“Drinks. And… pizza.” Alex thinks about the feeling of Magnus’ touch when he took a bite of the slice from his grasp.

“What did you guys talk about?”

“Not much. He knew about you and Jace and Max. Other than that…” Alec doesn’t finish the thought.

“You were with him all night!” she exclaimed.

He quickly explained how he never got the chance to ask more about their past and after his interaction with Luke, he immediately came home without a thought to Magnus Bane.

“You could have at least texted him, you know.” Izzy grinned.

He rolled his eyes and walked around his sister to nudge her to move forward. “We need to go.”

Izzy snickered. “I can’t believe you just left him like that. Give me your phone, I’ll do it.”

“Walk.”

They reach the epicenter of the chaos at the station, police cars parked at the front and mundanes rushing left and right. Alec spotted Clary and Jace as they approached the front entrance.

“Someone call for backup?” Izzy chimed.

“Yeah. What took you guys so long?” Jace demanded.

“Funny, I was gonna ask you the same thing.” Alec quipped.

Jace looked at Clary. “It's complicated.”

“We found the Cup,” Clary said.

Izzy’s eyes were blown, stunned. “ _The_ Cup?”

“Yeah, but then we lost it,” Clary clarified. “We have to sneak back in the precinct to get it.”

Alec, walking into a police station. No. Not happening. “This is a disaster,” he hissed.

“Hey, demon pox is a disaster. This is an inconvenience.” Jace watched the entrance and brought his attention back to the group. “We just need a new plan.”

“What about a glamour?” Izzy offered.

Jace shook his head. “Luke said they have spies in there. Anyone working with Valentine will see right through it.”

“Can we ask Magnus Bane to portal us inside?” Clary looked right at Alec.

“No,” Alec objected.

“That'd be awkward…” Izzy thought out loud. She gasped, realizing what she had mumbled and looked over at Alec. “Magnus can only conjure portals to places he's been to before.” Smooth, Izzy.

While Clary gets pulled away for another phone call, Jace and Alec strategize a new plan to retrieve the Cup. Jace and Clary make their way up to elevator shaft, while Alec and Izzy find a way to shut down the power. With the Nyx rune, they can navigate their way through the station undetected.

Alec sucked in a rigid breath. Jace was counting on him to do this. As they casually walk towards the front entrance, Alec falls behind, shoulders slumped as he looks over his shoulder one last time for any mundane cops glancing in his direction in familiarity. One stops and glares at him, but Alec quickly looks away and hurries after the other three.

 

He and Izzy hang back at the lobby, while Clary and Jace move forward. No one in uniform was suspicious of their presence, going about their day through the station lobby.

“Okay, I'm guessing you're the distraction?” Alec’s tone was less of a question and more of him begging.

“Nope. I've decided to grow up, remember? No more distracting for me.” Izzy eyes the officer at the reception desk. “Besides, I don't think I'm her type,” she implied.

When it came to missions, Alec hated being the distraction. And the fact that he was standing in the last place he ever wanted to end up, this wasn’t the time or place to be the distraction. “Oh, crap.”

“Don't worry,” she reassured. “It's good practice.”

“Huh?” Alec was too distracted and panicked to register what she said.

“You know… for asking out Magnus.” Izzy chuckled. Alec gave her a weary, pointed look. He really didn’t need the reminder about their discussion earlier.

That look only made her even more giddy, reaching up to Alec’s collar to loosen a few buttons.

“Wha- um, what are you doing?” he accused.

“Unbuttoning your shirt. What's it look like I'm doing?”

He quickly fastens the buttons back up his black shirt. “Izzy, this is not really my department.”

She let out a frustrated sigh. “Come on. You do this sort of stuff all the time.”

“You do, Izzy. I don't.” There was a big difference between the way she distracts for a mission and the way he distracts when he time travels. His method, when he catches the attention of a mundane or a cop, was to divert attention and lie his way out. But… flirting? Attracting their attention, instead of averting?

“It's easy! Come on.” She pushed her big brother towards the woman at the desk. That action caught her attention.

He doesn’t do this often, but when he does, Alec tries to emanate the way Jace flirts with other girls. First, the smile. That bright, gorgeous he gives that lights up his whole face.

“Hey.”

The officer was enamored. “Can I help you?”

Then, he looks directly at them, as though he was unaware that anyone else existed in the world. Jace always had something smooth and sexy to say, flirting with them until they melted in his presence.

“Yeah, um,” Alec begins to stutter. He couldn’t think of anything flattering to say. “You come here often?”

“I work here.” The doe-eyed look was gone, now peeved. “What can I help you with?”

“Right, um…” _Fuck_. “Right, right, right, yeah, um...” His siblings had their own way of being a distraction and it was clearly not working for him. He needed to act fast. If their way wasn’t working, he was going to distract the only way he knew how. “Yeah, I'm just... I'm looking for some information.” Noticing that the water bottle in front of her was open, he took the chance and knocked it over. “Oh, look... Oh, wow. I'm so sorry. Let me just get that.”

“That's not-” She shoos his hands away from the paperwork.

“I'm so sorry. That's such a mess.” With her attention diverted, Alec flings the police badge off the desk. Izzy catches it and disappears out of the woman’s line of sight.

For added incentive, he grabs a few brochures and thanks the woman again and leaves before she realizes her badge was gone.

He did it. He actually did it. Alec made it in and out of a police station without an incident. No altercations with a mundane officer, no traveling, and the plan was panning out smoothly. He and Izzy wait outside for Jace and Clary to return with the Cup. It was dark, inside and out, as they spend the remainder of the day at the station. Mundanes were fleeing left and right, while several werewolves linger at the front station, surrounded up police cars, the red and blue lights illuminating the chaotic environment.

With everyone preoccupied, Izzy included, Alec grabbed his phone and decided to do something bold. He went through his caller history and found Magnus Bane’s number and hit TEXT.

 

 **Alec (8:44)** -

 _Thanks for last night_.

He hits SEND.

 

* * *

 

 

Hours later, Magnus notices Alec’s text message. His heart leaps from his chest, blood rushing to his head. His friends said to stay low, but nothing about texting Alexander.

Magnus starts his reply with _You’re very welcome, Alexander_ . He wanted to add more, but couldn’t figure out what to say. He doesn’t want to press SEND yet. What could he say? _I missed you_ ? _I want to see you again_ ? _Drop in again sometime_? Oh.

 

 **Magnus Bane (10:03)** -

_You’re very welcome, Alexander. What are friends for ;)_

 

He erases and reenters the winky emoji a few times. He hovers over the SEND button.

Just as he was about to push the button, RAPHAEL flashes on his caller ID. It’s like he knew what he was about to do.

Magnus immediately picks up. “Are you spying on me?” he accused his friend.

“Magn- What?”

“How did you know I was about to text him?”

Raphael groaned. “Dios mío, would you forget about him for one second? We have a problem.”

“What happened?” Magnus knew that when Raphael snapped at him in that tone, he was serious.

“Simon’s dead.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! This was a monster of a chapter to write, so it took some time to get out of my system. All your comments and kudos got me through the month ♥ Thanks for reading!
> 
> I go on vacation starting tomorrow and will be back in November. I'll be writing here and there, hoping to have the next chapter or two posted while I'm on the plane. See you then!


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _life isn’t a fairytale,_  
>  _where the heroes are righteous and the villains are wicked,_  
>  _this is reality,_  
>  _and sometimes the would-be heroes betray us,_  
>  _and the devil lends a helping hand._ "
> 
> -oh, how the world deceives us // k.s.  
>   
>   
>   
> 

 

Raphael was walking back to Hotel DuMort when he spotted Camille through the tunnels. It was unmistakable, the way she carried herself – assertive and wicked with each stride.

“Camille,” he greeted her as they passed.

Camille’s attention remained forward. “Raphael.”

“What brings you here tonight?” He normally wouldn’t question her whereabouts, but something shifted the moment he saw her.

The clattering of her heels went silent. “Finishing up what you should have done, my darling.”

As soon as he whipped around, all that was left of her was malevolent laughter echoing down the halls.

There was already a crowd of vampires surrounding the body when Raphael arrived at the parlor. Camille didn’t even move the body or hide it in any way. Simon was just… dead, for everyone to see. For what purpose? To cause a rise out of the clan? To undermine his authority by killing a former hostage? Do the shadowhunters know he’s here?

The flood of questions were written on everyone’s faces as they all looked to Raphael for guidance. His fingers danced across his phone for the number of the one person who had answers they were looking for.

“What are you all looking at? Find her!” he commanded as he brought the phone up to his ear.

The vampires rapidly dissipated, leaving him alone with the body. This was the longest Raphael had ever spent with Simon in silence, which should have given him peace. And yet, the silence was killing him.

Well, for someone who’s already dead.

 

 

“Magnus, what do I do?” the vampire pleaded.

“There’s no use bringing him here. You can’t dispose the body without compromising yourself and the clan,” the warlock contemplated.

Raphael bent down to feel the warmth of what was left of Simon. “He’s been dead within the hour. We have a day to figure out what to do with him.”

Magnus took a sip of his drink before he replied. “I have an idea, buuuut,” he sing-songed, “you’re not gonna like it.”

Raphael pulled his phone away from his face to brace himself for the fresh hell that Magnus was about to offer. He took a deep breath and returned to the phone call. “I really hope you’re not suggesting I bring Simon to his family.”

“No!”

“Good.”

“I’m suggesting you bring him to Clary.”

Raphael cackled. “Clary Fairchild?”

“Yes,” Magnus confirmed.

“At the Institute.”

“I said you wouldn’t like it.”

“No, I love it! Amigo, you’re brilliant,” the vampire exclaimed sarcastically. “And then after that, I’ll just make my way over to the Jade Wolf and tell the mutts the wonderful news!”

The other scoffed into the receiver. “You’re hilarious.”

“And you’ve gone completely insane!”

“Raph, you said it yourself. We don’t have much time left and you’re running out of options. Take Simon to the Institute, explain everything to them, and let them decide what to do with him. If you can convince the shadowhunters that the clan had no part in his death, they might see reason.”

Magnus took the vampire’s silence as a good sign and continued. “If you want, I can talk with the other vampires and find out if she had any plans beyond Simon. If she’s trying to start something with the nephilim, maybe some of her followers might know about it.”

“And what if she’s starting a war?”

The warlock sighed. “Deal with Simon first, then Camille. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay. Magnus?”

“Mm?”

“Thanks.” Raphael ended the call.

 

 

Magnus was in the midst of conjuring a portal when he felt a presence through the other side of the door. He wasn’t expecting guests and none of his recent clients knew of his current location. A translucence spell revealed a familiar face, pacing back and forth.

With one snap, the door flew open and Magnus stepped into the hall. “Dante?”

“Magnus Bane. Forgive me, if I am intruding,” the man replied, just above a whisper. He appeared timid, his round face too pale for his warm complexion. He donned the same silk robe he wore from the ambush a few nights ago, which belonged to the High Warlock.

Magnus justified his method of tracking by the way Dante’s wrinkled palm hovered over the monogrammed M.B., but due to recent events, anyone could have procured the robe. “How do I know it’s really you?”

Dante smirked, as though he had suspected his doubt. “Zoe’s 5th birthday party. I couldn’t make it, so you threw her an extravaganza. She hated every minute of it.” For added measure, Dante turned around and lifted layers of clothing to reveal his tail. In blue ink, a tattoo read COLLAMBO in italicized serif, just above the tailbone.

“She drank so much hawaiian punch, her puke was purple,” Magnus reminisced, chuckling at both the memory and the tattoo. “It’s good to see you.”

Dante side-eyed the other, caught off-guard by the greeting. “You, too.”

“How is Zoe?” Magnus turned around and signals the other to follow him in.

“She’s actually why I’m… here…” Dante’s low voice drew out when he saw the partially-open portal in the entryway. “Apologies if I’m keeping you from something.”

A blue flame ignited in the High Warlock’s palm. He hesitated for a split second before waving the portal shut in one graceful swoop. “It can wait.”

“It’s probably nothing. I can come back another time,” Dante atoned.

Magnus blocked him from the door. “Please. What happened to Zoe?”

The other let out a resigned huff. “Ever since the ambush, she’s been having nightmares. I thought it’d go away after the first night, but then…” Dante wrapped his arms around himself, lost in thought. Magnus sat him down on the nearest arm chair and summoned a cup of white tea. “Then, last night. She… she was sound asleep. It was quiet until-”

“- she started screaming.” Magnus completed the thought.

Dante nodded. “Everything in the house started to rattle. Glass burst into pieces. Urns…”

Magnus had only known them for a few years, but Dante knew Zoe’s parents for a lot longer before they passed away. Her older sister, Adelaide, was too young to be Zoe’s guardian at the time, so Dante took her under his wing. Magnus suspected for a while that there was banshee in her lineage, but Adelaide pleaded for him not to dig into their past. He honored that promise, but how long could he hold out until Zoe’s powers grew beyond her control?

“What do you need me to do?” Magnus grabbed his hand for comfort.

“I don’t have any money,” Dante pleaded.

“This one’s on me.”

“I- I can’t let you do that. If and when Herc returns, he-”

Magnus stood up, in shock. “Herc is missing?”

“That’s why I came to you.” Dante sipped the tea and reveled in the warmth. “Ever since Valentine’s return, brewers and healers started disappearing, left and right. But, Zoe trusts you.” Herc could be in hiding, like they all should. Like Magnus should.

With a snap, Magnus summoned a sleeping potion that was intended for another client, but was a no-show. He walked over to the side-kitchen and dumped the potion contents into the cauldron. Once he added the faerie dust and mermaid scales, the mixture changed from a murky grey to a sparkly purple. Magnus snapped and blue sparks morph the potion from liquid into chewable gummies. He dumped the concoction into a small jar and returned to Dante, standing by the windows overlooking the city lights.

“I weakened the dosage and added faerie dust to help with her dreams. She should only take these any time after dinner and of course, don’t take while drinking.”

Dante let out a weak laugh. “Magnus Bane, free of charge. I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“Yeah, well…” He gave him a small smile. “Anything to help Zoe, right?”

“Thank you. For this and taking us in before,” Dante cleared his throat, “you know.”

“I’m so sorry about that-”

“Don’t be. We all knew the location was compromised and stayed anyways.” Dante faced the other and handed the tea back, in exchange for the jar of gummies. He shook the jar and smiled. “Thanks again. Next time, I’ll bring Zoe. She’d love to see this view.”

Magnus extended a hand. “Please do. And give my best to Adelaide.”

He accepted the hand shake before making his way to the door. Dante made it halfway, but stopped to face the High Warlock. “Where are my manners? This belongs to you,” he said hurriedly as he shrugged off the robe.

Before he had the chance to remove it entirely, Magnus snapped and the robe wrapped itself back on Dante. “Please, keep it.”

Dante shook his head and beamed. “I can’t quite put my finger on what’s different about you, Magnus, but I like it. Hope to see you again soon.” He then showed himself out, leaving a speechless warlock behind.

What the hell did he mean by that? There was little time to mull over the thought when a text message from Raphael appeared.

 

 **Raphael (1:17)** –

If you’re wrong about this and you don’t hear from me, tell Ragnor I love him.

 

* * *

 

 

When Alec was younger, older Alec used to tell him to always check in with himself. To take time away from everyone and reassess what’s going on within. Time travel is strenuous enough and it’s not healthy to sort through all the visits at length, whilst balancing life as a shadowhunter. Take it out on a punching bag if necessary, but don’t let things build up inside. And of course, reach out to Jace or Izzy if there’s no down time.

What down time? How old was Alec to think he would have any time to check in with himself? Hasn’t Alec experienced any of this?

Since he left the police station, Alec had to constantly look over his shoulder in fear that someone or something would be following him and Clary back to the Institute. In hindsight, Luke should have instructed her to return the Cup to its original place in the tarot card, but Clary shoved it into her bag as though the relic was nothing more than a mundane toy. Honestly, did she have any respect?

Which, by the way, now the redhead has nephilim powers? Of course she does. She’s Valentine daughter, of course she does. Because of her mother’s ability with paint, she too can store artifacts into the art and activate them at will. Yay! How convenient. Of course, Clary fucking Fairchild has powers that she can control.

“Right now, Clary is the only thing that matters!” Alec felt the rage and ache behind the words as Jace bellowed orders to the other shadowhunters. Clary inserted herself into this life in the course of a few days and suddenly, she’s all that mattered to him. The only thing that mattered to him. To hear those words was one thing but to see them suddenly kiss… to watch her grab him and kiss him was just… and to see Jace reciprocate was as painful to witness as the night with the memory demon. Because, of course, he wanted her. Perfect Clary Fairchild, perfect for perfect Jace Wayland. The instant Alec felt a jolt in his parabatai rune, he had to leave the room. Boys suck.

After a quick shower and a change of clothes, Alec checked his phone to see if Magnus even replied to his text message. Nothing.

Yeah, boys _suck_.

And now Simon’s dead.

Alec should have suspected something when Simon suddenly gained the Sight, but he was a mundane that never kept his mouth shut and had a terrible habit of getting himself kidnapped. Shadowhunters took an oath to protect the mundanes from the shadow world. All that energy spent in saving him and the shadow world killed him anyways.

And with the family meeting at dawn, Alec had no time to grieve or process it in any way.

 

 

“There have been rumors of local Shadowhunters interfering in Downworld affairs. You two wouldn't know anything about that, right?” Maryse demanded.

“Nada-” “-No,” Alec replied, side-glancing at Izzy when she responded simultaneously. _Shit_.

“Nevertheless,” Robert continued, “because of all this unwarranted attention drawn to New York, under our command, the Clave is sending an envoy-”

“-who will be coming to observe us.” Maryse cut in. “And to gather information about Valentine to report back, but really to scrutinize our leadership.”

“But we’re the Lightwoods,” Izzy countered.

Robert’s features softened, but his voice remained stern. “Yes, but remember, the honor isn't in the name, it's in the deed. And right now, they’re … concerned about our devotion to our job and the cause.”

“So, I beg of the two of you, don't do anything that would cause the Clave to lose whatever trust they have left in us.” Even though Maryse was addressing the two of them, she looked directly at Alec. Of course, it would fall on him. Leave it to Alec to be the person that will ruin the family name, not the girl who was to blame for all of this. Not perfect Clary, no.

Alec stood up. “When can we expect the envoy’s arrival?”

Robert looked to Maryse with hesitancy before she responded, “Soon. Be Ready.”

Alec nodded and left.

A few seconds later, he heard heels shuffling behind him. “Alec, wait.”

He continued to walk, speaking over his shoulder. “Iz, see if Jace and Clary are still here and tell them the news. I’m gonna go find Max.”

“Are you okay? You know none of this is your fault.” She grabbed his arm and forced him to turn around.

“I’m fine,” he snapped, with more heat than he intended. “Just… go find Jace.”

She gave him a sympathetic nod before letting him go.

It was unbelievable how much could happen in a week. Before, it was just the three of them, week after week of the same old routine – go out, kill demons, come home. Time travel was the only thing he had to worry about in between shadowhunter duties, but he was getting better at dealing with it. He had finally hit a rhythm that allowed him to fulfill his responsibilities as acting Head, while being a time-travelling shadowhunter. And then, the girl showed up.

Now, an envoy is on the way to the Institute. Heaven knows how long he or she will be here, but Alec is certain of one thing: there’s no way the Institute will be taken away from them. Future Alec still has his runes, so there’s hope that his family remains in control of this establishment. At the very least, he can depend on the existence of future Alec to know that he will still be a shadowhunter, regardless of where he resides.

He just has to get through to the envoy first.

After looking in his room and the study, Alec finds Max in the library playing chess with Raj.

Max notices the shift in Raj’s posture when Alec walks in, anxious and alert. “Mom asked Raj to look after me while everyone was in the secret family meeting.”

Raj’s shoulders drop in relief. “I knew you didn’t go to the bathroom.”

“I did though!”

“Did not.” Raj moves a chess piece that makes Max snicker.

“Max, I told you not to eavesdrop when the door is closed.” Alec crossed his arms as he analyzes the game.

“The door was closed. I don’t have to eavesdrop to know that it’s bad.” Max moves his bishop across the board and hops out of his chair before Raj registers the final blow. “Is this the part where you’re gonna tell me to stay out of trouble?”

Alec grins and shakes his head. “Go wait for me outside. I need to speak to Raj.”

Max groans, but does what he’s told and stands out in the hall.

“Checkmate,” Alec teases.

“I let him win.” Raj resets the board to distract himself.

“I’m sure you did. Listen, an envoy is on the way to the Institute. Can you make sure a spare room is ready?”

“An envoy? For how long?”

“Who knows. Just make sure the room is far away from mine.” Alec turns to leave.

Raj calls out to him. “I give ‘em an hour until they find out about you!”

It was unclear if the Clave knew about his ability, but the Institute collectively had an unspoken agreement to never bring it up unless it was absolutely necessary. At this point, everyone who resided at the Institute knew about Alec. Whether they had or had not personally seen him go or return, it would be pretty stupid, in retrospect, to not see him naked every once in a while.

With Clary as the newest resident in the Institute, Alec now realizes she was just the warm-up. Raj is right. How long does he have until the envoy discovers him? Or do they already know?

 

 

“Alec, do you think you could get my stele back?” Max asks.

“They took it away because you nearly burnt down the Mumbai Institute.”

He looks up at Alec as they walk together. “How many times do I have to say it was an accident?”

“Look, Max,” Alec sighs, bending down to meet his brother’s eye level. “Somebody very important is coming to visit. All right? Do you think you can stay out of trouble for just a couple of days? If you do, I promise I'll get your stele back.”

Alec watches Max roll his eyes and considers other ways to bribe him, but a movement from the corner of his eye distracts him. The portal shimmers from a distance and a man walks through the front doors. The moment Alec registers who it is, everything unfolds quickly, yet in slow-motion.

Valentine, alone, waltzing into the Institute unarmed.

The drumming of his heart beats hard, drowning out any other sounds in the room.

His breath catches, arm reaching behind for Max. Alec’s first instinct is to shield his brother, to stand firmly in front of him. He feels Max retreat behind him before he feels the bow in his hand. Without breaking eye-contact from Valentine, Alec knows that the moment he raises his bow, an arrow will be ready to shoot.

Both fast and slow-motion, the arrow is airborn, heading straight for Valentine’s head. Alec sees every wobble of the arrow in midair, bracing himself for impact.

Just as quick as the moment came, the arrow whips out of his hands and into Valentine’s.

Miss.

Alec raises his bow with another arrow ready to fire, but Valentine stops. And from where he stands, Alec feels the whole room still. It almost feels… wrong. There he is, the most violent shadowhunter to exist in the history of the shadow world and nobody’s doing anything. He can’t move. All he can do is watch as Valentine waves his stele over his arm.

In both fast and in slow-motion, the illusion of Valentine fades and changes to a woman in a blazer and braids. Is this Valentine, shape-shifting to this woman or the other way around?

“That reaction time was abysmal,” she says exasperatedly. “Except for you.”

The woman looks at Alec with a slight smirk. His body, still tense from the episode, is quickly replaced by uneasy familiarity in this woman. Specifically, her voice.

“I'm Lydia Branwell, envoy from the Clave.”

 

* * *

 

 

Camille was meticulous in the way she lured her prey. She knew how to sniff out the weak, those who would never make it out from six feet under, and those who do make it out as a fledging, although not many survive for long afterwards. Which means, Camille may have her followers but how many of them actually possess the blood connection and loyalty to her?

If Magnus doesn’t find answers soon, perhaps he could persuade the vampires to side with Raphael.

“She’s just a blood-sucking walking stick. I could care less about her and the mundane,” a vampire responded, while the gang behind him scoffed and shifted in bitter distress.

Magnus was quickly losing his patience. “That walking stick killed someone who was very dear to a shadowhunter and a werewolf.”

“Listen, Mr. Bane- Magnus- Uh, sir. That really fucking sucks, but some of us haven’t had anything to drink today. Sorry.” The group vanished in vampire speed.

Another vampire approached Magnus. “Can warlocks heal sunburn?”

“Depends,” Magnus replied as he straightened his jacket. “Do you have information on Camille?”

“…Not really.” The vampire looked down.

Magnus breathed an exasperated sigh and gestured with his hand for the vampire to step closer. “Show me.”

Although vampires were considered the dead, Magnus swore he saw flush in the vampire’s cheeks, overjoyed. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you!”

A few hours and several healed wounds later, Magnus felt faintly worn out. If he hears one more vampire ask, “When will Pandemonium reopen?”, he swore he would bust a wall open and watch them all burn. The investigation was going nowhere and Raphael grew more impatient with each text message. The poor thing was bored out of his mind, stuck at the Institute with no way out during daylight.

Magnus thought about sending him a selfie in front of the painting that hid the safe, but stopped after he saw Alec’s name in the list of recent messages.

 _Thanks for last night_.

Crap. Alec sent that text ages ago and he completely forgot to respond. It was almost comical how much they lagged in communication since the moment they met. Magnus wasn’t sure what he pictured when Alexander told him about their friendship in the present, but he somewhat imagined them to be inseparable. Why wouldn’t they want that? In some ways, Magnus was both greedy and deprived of Alexander for the majority of his life, popping in and out of existence. And now, they could hardly keep up a conversation via text.

There’s always going to be something, isn’t there? Alec will always put his shadowhunter duties first. Magnus will always place his responsibilities as High Warlock above anything else. And with Valentine’s return, will there be any time to meet again? He really hopes so. Alec is bound to travel back to the past, sooner or later. Thankfully, the draft he wrote before Raphael called still appears in the text box.

A vampire in a grey suit firmly taps his shoulder. “Hey, Warlock.”

Magnus bitterly glances at where the leech touched him and looks up at the vampire with revulsion.

“Why the fuck did you close Pandemonium?” he sneers.

“One second,” Magnus says coolly, clenching his jaw. He looks down at his phone and hits SEND before setting it down. He’s going to need both hands for this.

Magnus snaps both hands to ignite magic. The blue flames start small, forming tiny balls of energy in each hand. When they begin to split into two in each hand, Magnus waves both hands and aims for the vampire’s feet and swiftly raises one arm over the other. Magic obeys his command and flips the vampire upside down. He keeps one hand in the air as he signals the bartender for another drink, while others watch in disbelief.

“You know, you have the makings of a very cute bat.” Magnus bends down to tickle the top of the vampire’s head.

“Fuck you,” the other hisses.

With his one hand still raised, Magnus snaps the same hand and the vampire flies above him. A few vampires try to suppress their giggles as others gasp in astonishment.

“Listen, Bruce-”

“Elton!” the vampire interrupts.

“Whatever. I’m not here to piss on the fact that I took away the only place you could leech off drunk mundanes. I was kind of busy with, you know, protecting my people. I’m here because your fearless leader broke the Accords last night. I’m only here because Raphael is out there doing the honorable thing and dealing with this shit. Part of my job as High Warlock is to deal with the political crap with all of you downworlders and right now, you’re not making it worth my time.” Magnus pauses to take a quick picture of the dangling vampire. “Now, I’m going to sit here for the next five minutes. Ethan’s going to stay right where he is-”

“Elton!”

Magnus flashes his cat eyes. “Don’t interrupt me.”

“We don’t know anything, dipshit. Why don’t you ask that Seelie, Meliorn? He’s been visiting her like twice a week.” After minutes of fighting off the gravity, Elton’s limbs go limp in defeat.

After putting the glamour back up, Magnus looks back at the now crowded room and asks, “Is that true?” The majority nod in agreement.

The blue fire in his hand extinguishes and Magnus walks away as Elton’s dead weight crashes down.

“Asshole,” the vampire growls.

 

* * *

 

 

 **Magnus Bane (11:31)** -

_You’re very welcome, Alexander_

 

It’s ridiculous how quick one text could change a person’s mood. After he finished nitpicking at the incident report about their mission at the police station, Alec was ready to escape from the madness of it all and take it out on a punching bag. But one text was all that it took to ease the tension. He felt the tiny jolt in his chest and felt it again and again as he reread the text.

Izzy met him at the top of the stairs in Ops after a full morning of showing Lydia around the Institute, looking equally worn from the morning bustle. Alec slid his phone away before Izzy had the chance to ask what he was smiling at. Not that he was aware that he was smiling, but he refused to give her the opportunity to mock him about it.

“I'm not a fan.” Izzy mutters, glaring at Lydia.

“Jealous?” Alec teases.

“No… Maybe. How the hell did she catch that arrow?”

Alec feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and his heart immediately starts pounding. Is this how it’s going to feel like from now on? For all he knows, it’s probably Jace or Max. But when he pulls out his phone, there’s four urgent messages from Luke.

With his mother already at the floor, Alec pulls Izzy along with him and syncs his phone to the monitor.

“I have something you need to see. Something attacked the Jade Wolf.”

Lydia spent the commute to the Jade Wolf interrogating Alec about how Luke’s number came to be on his phone. Since she had read the reports, it was easy to gloss over the specifics. Luke attacked the Alpha, Luke became the Alpha, Luke had to get to Magnus, Alec helped Magnus heal Luke, Luke thanked him, and now his number was in his phone. She nods and lets the topic drop.

“That was quite a welcome mat, you naked in my room.”

 _Oh._ **_Shit_ ** _._ “I- Lyd- He’s- That wasn’t-”

Lydia stops him, resting her hand on his arm. “Alec, it’s alright. I know you can time travel.”

“Oh.” He didn’t feel a strong urge to inquire how she knew about it, but he files the question away for another time. “I’m so sorry you had to find out that way.”

She shrugs. “From what I’ve seen, I understand why all the girls in Idris are clamoring to meet you.”

He blushes. “What do you mean?”

“Rumor has it you're looking to settle down.”

“Damn it.” How could he have forgotten about that? With the police station, Luke, the Cup, Magnus, Clary and Jace, and Simon, the political marriage was the last thing he wanted to think about. There was no discussion with his parents and yet, they already made arrangements without his consent. His mother’s doing, no doubt.

Lydia senses his hesitancy. “Let me guess. Not your idea?

“Not even close.”

“My parents tried to set me up, too.”

“And how'd that work out?” Alec never knew that the Branwells needed a political engagement, too. Why didn’t he know about this?

“Not well for them. I made my own path. Married the love of my life: John Monteverde. Together we were going to run the Lisbon Institute. And then, John was killed. Everything was ripped away. My love, my dream job...” Lydia pauses, lost in thought.

Alec waits for her to come back, stunned by everything she’s sharing.

She sighs and looks up at him. “Piece of advice: In this line of work, the only thing worth falling in love with is the work itself.”

And for the first time in a long while, someone speaks his language. She gets it. She’s seen what happens when desires supersede family duties. When has love worked out for him?  From the moment he accepted his feelings for Jace, nothing about it felt liberating. He can’t protect him or anyone for that matter if they find out he’s gay. He needs to be a shadowhunter and acting Head first and foremost. Nothing else.

Jace is already slipping through his fingertips. Alec can’t afford to lose anybody else.

 

 

Lydia walks around the mutilated body. “It's got some characteristics of a Forsaken –  It was human.”

“And runed,” Alec adds.

Luke shakes his head. “I don't know. It was more focused, more determined… like it had a plan. Plus, a normal Forsaken wouldn't have been so hard to kill. It took five wolves to take that thing down. Never seen anything like it.”

She bends down to take a closer look. “We'll take the body back to the Institute, do a full autopsy.”

“Whoa, hold up,” Luke interjects. “I get that I called you... Actually, I called Alec. But what I didn't want is someone to come down here and just take over.”

“Yeah, that's kind of her thing,” Alec teases.

She narrows her eyes at him and grins. “Look, I know I can come across... abrasive. But we're all on the same side here. Can we agree on that? The Institute has the resources to find out what this thing is.”

Alec approaches the body and kneels down to take pictures of the surrounding debris for Izzy. “We have an expert forensic pathologist. Highly trained in all the creatures of the Shadow World.”

“Do you have one here? In this, uh, Chinese restaurant?” Lydia enquires.

“Fine. You win,” Luke complies. “Just let me know what you find.”

Lydia gives him a small smile in agreement. “You think Valentine was behind this.”

Luke scoffs, “No question.”

“What do you think he's after?” Alec asks.

“Honestly? Me.” Luke waves off someone approaching him with aid.

Lydia stands in front of Luke, arms folded across her chest. “So, you think Valentine's going after ex-Circle members?”

“I don't know. It might be kind of personal,” Luke admits. “We have a complicated past. But of course, he could be going after the old crew.”

“I'm sure Valentine has a grudge against anybody who turned against him. We'll put extra wards on the Institute.” Lydia advises.

Alec nods. “Right, for Hodge.”

“And your parents,” Lydia informs.

The news doesn’t hit him right away, but his body goes stiff.

“Did they conceal that from you?”

The room went silent. Alec was having trouble breathing, in shock. No… rage. He felt the burning sensation in his chest. Was he going to travel? He didn’t feel any pain or hear the distinctive ring in his ears. No, he wasn’t going to travel, but he needed to get out of there.

Luke and Lydia follow Alec outside and watch him take deep breaths. “This is… this is just-”

“Alec, breathe. I’m sure they kept this from you to protect you,” Luke attempts to reassure him.

“Ha! Is that what you told Clary?” Alec is fuming.

“Luke, thanks for calling us in. We’ll go ahead and arrange for transport.” Lydia extends a hand. He accepts the gesture, glancing between the two with worry.

With that, Alec storms off with Lydia trailing behind.

 

* * *

 

 

A short time later, Alec found Lydia in the morgue with the Forsaken. Alec was grateful that she didn’t push him to talk about his parents and continued to examine the corpse on the table.

“We need to make sure no magic was used to make this. I'm calling the nearest High Warlock to come in to consult.” She didn’t even say his name and yet, his heart skipped a beat. In an instant, everything in his mind formed one coherent thought.

“Magnus Bane? T- to come here to the Institute?” Alec stammered.

Lydia mistook his tension for hesitation. “Yes, is there a problem?”

A problem? There are so many problems in his life. One problem after another, on top of another, kissing another. It’s getting harder and harder to deal with everything all at once. But, is Magnus Bane a problem?

“No. Not at all. Magnus is, um… quite magical.” Alec wasn’t sure why he had to justify it, but his mouth ran faster than his mind and he couldn’t seem to stop. Magnus Bane was the High Warlock. Of course, he’s magical. “He's very… uh, very good at magic.” Why couldn’t he just shut himself up?

“Do you know him well?” she mused.

“Uh, just a little.” Alec wished he had a better answer than that. Magnus has known Alec his entire life, but they’ve only met a few days ago. Akin to when travels occasionally get lopsided in how time progresses, it was intimidating how lopsided their… whatever this was. Little time would pass in the present while a visit would extend to hours or days. Will they ever reach an equilibrium?

“I actually can't wait to meet him.” She chuckled, her face bright and ecstatic. “Did you know that my great ancestor, Henry Branwell, who was the last of the Branwells to run an Institute, and Magnus Bane invented the Portal?”

Alec wasn’t sure why, but the words “last of the Branwells to run an Institute” struck a nerve in him. Perhaps it was because of what she’s confided in him about the Lisbon Institute. Or the implications that led to her assignment here in Brooklyn. What if things go south and he’s the last of the Lightwoods to run this Institute? That ship sailed the moment his parents chose to be a part of the Circle.

“No. Just add that to the list of things I didn't know.”

“Alec, wait.” Alec tried to storm out of the morgue, but she chased after him. “I'm sorry. I had no idea you were unaware of your parents being ex-Circle members. You shouldn’t have had to find out like that.”

“You mean from you? You shouldn't have been the one I found out from,” Alec argued. The moment those words spilled out, Alec realized there was one other person to blame for this. Why did he have to find out now when he could have known sooner?

“This doesn't change how I feel about the Lightwoods. Your family has always had a strong alliance with mine. They've been a powerful force in the shadow world and have been praised for their loyalty.”

“Praised for their loyalty?” He spat out. “Lydia, my parents were in league with Valentine.”

“People make mistakes,” she disputed.

“Yeah, but this… this is unforgivable.”

 

Alec was halfway down the hall from his room when he reached for his phone.

 

 **Magnus Bane (2:10)** –

_I’m on my way to the Institute_

 

And there it was again, that pang in his chest. He didn’t have to text him, but he did anyways. Why? He didn’t summon him, he didn’t write the fire message, and he wasn’t currently in charge. Does this mean that they’re friends now? Not many people in his contacts beyond Jace and Izzy strike up conversations.

Still driven by his conversation with Lydia, he was desperate for a second opinion.

 

 **Alec (2:11)** –

_Did you know my parents were part of the Circle?_

 

He stood in the middle of the hallway, outside of his door, waiting for a reply. He was breathing faster, his heart pounding in his chest. A thought bubble would appear and disappear. What was going on in Magnus Bane’s head? It’s a yes or no question.

 

 **Magnus Bane (2:13)** –

_Yes. I’m sorry._

 

Ah. Alec feels his resolve congeal. He tucks his phone away and storms into his room, knowing who’s inside.

On his bed, older Alec slams a book shut and sits up when Alec enters the room. He wasn’t just a few months older. His usual stubble is now a full beard, his hair short and neat. His physique appears heftier and softer around the edges. Strong, but… gentle. His vibe feels serene, which pisses Alec off even more. He’s been expecting this.

“You knew,” present Alec fires.

“Alec, come on-” the older begins.

“Say it!”

He sighs. “Yes. Okay? But you know why we couldn’t-”

“No, no. Don’t,” Alec chided. “Don’t you dare start with this future shit. I don’t care-”

“You finding out from Lydia is fixed! We can’t change that. You found out at the exact moment you needed-”

“THEY’RE CIRCLE MEMBERS, ALEC!”

Older Alec clears his throat and stands up from the bed. “Look, I know you’re going through a lot right now-”

“Pfft, that’s an under-”

“Let. Me. Finish.” The other’s voice slices the air. “You’re confused, feeling betrayed and overwhelmed by everything that’s happened. I’m not going to be here long, but you need to talk to someone else about all this. You can’t keep bottling all this up.”

Alec squints his left eye, clearly irritated by the lecture. “You want me to check in. Now.”

“Talk to Magnus.”

The younger is taken aback by the way older Alec says his name tenderly. Not Magnus Bane. Magnus. Like it’s his favorite song.

“Izzy thinks that because you’ve been visiting Magnus all his life, I’ll be spending the rest of my life doing just that. Visiting Magnus.” Alec approaches the other, arms crossed. “Is that true?”

Older Alec huffs, biting his words. Choosing his words carefully. “I can’t say to what extent-”

“By the angel!” Alec barks. “You can’t even be honest with me?”

“You KNOW why we can’t!” His chin is up, but his voice cracks.

“Oh, I KNOW! Of course, I know! You’re me and I’m you, remember? I can remember things that happened, but not the other way around. Yes, Alec, I KNOW! I KNOW and that’s what makes this so FUCKING CRUEL! I’m so sick. Of all. The LYING, Alec!” Alec’s chest starts heaving, fuming at the sight of his future self. And because they're standing face to face, Alec can tell that the older is resisting the urge to smile, pressing his lips into a hard line.

“Feel better?” he digresses.

Alec takes a step back and pours all of his wrath into a punch to his face. The throbbing pain in his hand feels good. Righteous.

“Yeah. So much better.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This serves as a part one.  
> Part two will be up over the weekend ;)
> 
> Big thanks for those who left kudos and comments while I was away, especially those who just started Only the Beginning ♥


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _I'll see you in the future when we're older,_  
>  _And we are full of stories to be told._  
>  _Cross my heart and hope to die,_  
>  _I'll see you with your laughter lines."_  
>   
>  -Bastille, Laughter Lines  
>   
> 

 

The perimeter around Seelie territory was magically shielded to let their own kind in and no one else. The Institute had the same protocol for granting entry for those with angel blood, but Faeries have biological detection beyond having both angel and demon blood. Even though Magnus had demon blood, there’s no way he could get past the shield.

“Magnus Bane. I heard that you were looking for me,” Meliorn greeted behind the barrier.

“What’s with the shield? Did I do something to vex Queen See?” Magnus pouted, thick with sarcasm.

“You know she hates it when you call her that.”

“The same way you hate it when I call you Watermeliorn?”

The seelie knight narrowed his eyes. “Why are you here?”

“Camille Belcourt. She attacked a mundane last night.”

“As all vampires do…”

“Did you know anything about it?”

“No. Why would you think I had anything to do with it?” Meliorn remained poised and composed.

“You’ve been seen visiting Hotel DuMort. Why?”

“Why would anyone go to Hotel DuMort?”

“Well, I hear the Bloody Marys alone are sinfully addictive.” They could do this dance all day, but Magnus was running out of time. He noticed the slight change in the other’s composure and wanted to press further, but a fire message interrupted the thought.

A Lydia Branwell was requesting his services at the New York Institute.

Meliorn noticed the Clave seal and stifled a laugh. “Nephilim. They want nothing to do with us until they need something. Tell me, was it worth it to come to their aid when Circle members raided your hideout?”

A few days ago, Magnus was a different person before the memories. That Magnus felt a different kind of rationale in how he lived his life. He thought that because he was High Warlock, he was always right. He was certain that because it was his lair, that guaranteed protection. He believed that the necklace he once gave to Camille would give him closure to a centuries-old heartache. And he knew he was growing reckless due to cravenness.

Sure, he gained Alexander back, but he lost a protégé in Elias and a protector in Dorothy. He’s lost far too many under his watch without any concern from the Clave. Because why would they care? That Magnus wasn’t the same Magnus that put the Accords into writing. Sure he was a leader, but not the same person that deserved the position as High Warlock.

The last ten years went by in a blink of an eye and yet, is it too much time to make up for?

“Who did you lose?” Magnus asked.

Meliorn began to pace along the perimeter. “Advised by the Clave, the Queen sent our best scouts to get intel on Valentine. They weren’t supposed to get too close. Two weeks ago, communications went thin. A week ago, nothing. The last time I saw Camille was a few nights ago, when she confirmed there was movement of Seelie blood.”

“I’m so sorry. My condolences.”

“Well, I don’t want to keep you from where you need to go. A word of caution though…” the seelie forewarned.

Magnus stepped forward, folding the message and tucking it into his jacket.

“Be careful of what they ask of you, Magnus. There are things you may never come back from.”

The High Warlock wanted to say something, a snide comment about the Clave or something witty about Meliorn’s concern for his well-being. But there was fire behind his warning, thick with wisdom. All Magnus could do was nod before the seelie knight dismissed himself.

Fae like to keep to themselves and look out for their own. Meliorn must have been desperate or sly enough to reach out to Camille for help. Ah, he should have asked what he was willing to offer her in exchange for this information.  And now, the Seelie Queen mandated to put the shields back up again. The only other time Magnus had seen this happen was during Valentine’s previous reign of terror. There’s no doubt that the seelies forfeited contact with the Clave and he doesn’t blame them for it.

What could Lydia Branwell want with him at a time like this?

He should text Alexander. The fire message said New York Institute, right? Perhaps he knew what this might be about. Couldn’t hurt to reach out, just in case it really wasn’t worthwhile.

 

 **Magnus Bane (2:10)** –

_I’m on my way to the Institute_

 

As he waited for a reply, Magnus took a deep breath and felt his magic. Did all the healing and portalling affect his supply or will he be fine for what’s next? He could ask Alexander if magic will be invol-

 

 **Alexander (2:11)** –

_Did you know my parents were part of the Circle?_

 

That was… unexpected. Are they involved in what Lydia Branwell summoned him for? They certainly have a history, largely due to their ties to the Circle. When he heard that the Clave let them off with a tad more than a slap on the wrist, after all they’ve done for Valentine, Magnus could only look at them with repulsion and insolence. How could two people like that raise a son like Alexander?

 

_Yes. Are they why I’m asked to the In-_

He backspaced.

 _Yes. Did you not kno_ -

Backspaced again.

 **Magnus (2:13)** –

_Yes. I’m sorry._

SEND.

 

Might as well check in with Raphael, now that he’s heading there.

 **Magnus (2:13)** –

_I’ve been summoned to the Institute. Still there?_

**Raphael (2:14)** –

_Yes! Díos, something smells like death_

**Magnus (2:14)** –

_You mean like you?_

**Raphael (2:14)** – 

...

 **Magnus (2:14)** –  

:)

 

* * *

 

 

When her father told her that Magnus Bane will be examining the Forsaken alongside her, Izzy tried to contain her excitement. Robert was exasperated about the fact that Lydia requested Magnus Bane to consult, even though the Clave won’t be covering the bill. She hurried out of the office and rushed to grab her lab coat and favorite chopsticks. Izzy was already hyped about examining the body, but now she’ll be spending time with Magnus. Her mind was busy reeling with questions to ask him and almost bumped into another shadowhunter as she turned a corner.

“Sorry,” she mumbled, distracted.

The other began to apologize, but realized who it was. “Iz, it’s fine.”

She stopped in her tracks at the sound of his voice. It was deeper and calmer, but she could recognize it anywhere. When she turned around, he was beaming at her with arms wide open.

Izzy looked at him in awe. “Alec?” Her approach was slow at first, but then jumped into his arms.

“Hey, you,” older Alec said.

“When did you get here?” She took a step back and looked him over, from head to toe, to see what has changed about him.

“A few hours a… go…,” he replied, amused by Izzy forcibly spinning him around. “Iz, it’s just me.”

“Obviously! And you’re wearing dad’s clothes instead of Alec’s, you porker.” She giggled and poked at his side.

When he laughed, her heart swelled and ached at the same time. His eyes crinkled into the deepest lines she’s ever seen and his smile extended from ear to ear. He laughed like he’s done it all his life. Older Alec looked and felt like he’s lived a happy life and that’s all she’s ever wanted for her big brother.

“You look good,” she gushed.

“So do you.” He tried to give her another smile, but winced involuntarily. His cheek was still tender from the hit to the face and he could see that Izzy looked concerned.

She approached him and grabbed his face by the chin and looked at the developing bruise. “Did Alec do this?”

Older Alec sighed, closing his eyes. He waited for her to turn into protective sister mode, but was surprised to find Izzy’s head tossed back in laughter. “What?” he chuckled.

She let go of his chin and tried to catch her breath. “I’m sorry! I mean, I’m mad at Alec, but you-,” a giggle escaped. “You just stood there and let him punch you in the face?” When she looked up at him again, it triggered another round of breathless giggles. By the angel, nothing about Alec could ever be ordinary and she loved him for it.

“Don’t make me laugh!” He wanted to join her but when he tried, the pain only got worse. “Okay, I’m going to grab an ice pack before you make this worse.” The older turned around and exaggerated his stomping.

“Alec, wait! Okay, okay.” She reached out and tugged on his shirt. “Look, I have to get to the lab. Will you be alright?”

He nodded and opened his arms for another hug. She embraced him and reveled in the feeling of his beard tickling the crown of her head. Izzy looked up and smiled at him.

“It’s really good to see you,” she said softly.

With one last squeeze, he replied with a kiss to the top of her forehead. “Go.”

They went their separate ways and a moment passed before Izzy called after him. “Hey, Alec?”

“Mm?”

“Magnus is here, too. Do you, uh… do you wanna come?” Izzy grinned, clearly pun intended.

That got a titter out of him. He reached over to the back of his head and rubbed his neck. After all these years, he still had that dreadful habit.

“Maybe some other time.”

Izzy arrived at the morgue to find Magnus Bane still working on the Forsaken.

“You almost done?” she blurted. Still high from her interaction with a future Alec, Izzy entered the room with a bounce to her step.

“Patience is a virtue, my dear.” Magnus smirked.

She walked over to the table, cheery. “Some of us don’t have all the time in the world.”

“Speaking of which,” he chimed, “how is Alexander? I was hoping I might see him.”

Izzy needed to concentrate on the body. The quicker they can examine the body, as thoroughly as possible, they can talk about Alec. She absentmindedly nudged Magnus aside. “Putrefaction. It's decomposing.”

It was so easy to get lost in the work. Deducing the cause of death was a challenge on its own, but forensic pathology allowed her to find the remaining pieces of how the deceased lived their life. This Forsaken was once a mundane, a mortal living a life out in the world. It had a routine, people it knew, a real life before it somehow made its way into Valentine’s path. It was runed, but it was bruised before time of death. Even through all the werewolf marks and scratches, Izzy could tell that the blood wasn’t mundane.

She could spend hours in the lab as the world passed by. This was her bubble, away from her parents and the shadow world. She’s been in the room for barely a minute and had already forgotten that Magnus was as well.

He mentioned Alec, which brought her back from her trance. “I’m sorry, what?”

“I was wondering where I might find Alec after this,” he repeated, done with his magical examination.

“Oh. Well, I think he’s in a debriefing right now. And obviously, he’ll go right to the punching bag after that.”

“I don’t blame him. What, with running the Institute-”

“-and Clary’s arrival,” she added.

“And Valentine’s return.”

“The envoy from the Clave-”

“- who I hear is making quite an impression around here. What else…” he sighed. “Oh! Babysitting Jace-”

“-and dealing with a warlock who has known Alec his entire life.” Izzy walked around the table and adjusted the light above the body on a particular wound. When she was able to face opposite Magnus, she grinned at his stunned expression. “He told me about what you said. I hope that’s okay.”

“It's quite alright. He’s told me about you, too.” When she looked up at him, he didn’t realize she needed more clarification. “Well, not _Alec_ Alec. My Alec. I mean, future Alec.”

“Your Alec?”

Magnus rolled his eyes and tsked. “You know what I mean.”

“He’s somewhere in the building, you know. Future Alec. If I had to take a guess, he’s in his late-30’s.”

She went on and on about older Alec before she realized that Magnus was quiet, catatonic.

“Magnus?”

 

* * *

 

 

He’s here. Alexander’s in the Institute. He’s never witnessed two Alexanders just… existing in the same space. It felt like Christmas morning to be in the present. Their present. He was standing in the morgue with Isabelle, Alec’s confidant through thick and thin. He realized that he was just gazing at her and not saying anything. He idly began rubbing his thumb in circles, lost in thought.

“Magnus?”

He shook his head and drew his attention back to Izzy. “Apologies, I was just-”

“Daydreaming?” Izzy coaxed.

“So to speak. It’s been a while since I’ve seen… him.”

“Me, too. I think it’s been years since I’ve seen old Alec. I call him Jolly Alec.”

Magnus cackled. “I called him Buddha Alec. He was always so-”

“Zen, right?”

“Yes, exactly!” They both laughed, the kind of laugh they had to quickly restrain, afraid someone was going to hear them.

She pointed at a set of tools on Magnus’ side of the table, gesturing him to hand her the forceps and vial. He watched her pull a sample from a wound and jotted some notes down.

“So, Magnus… how many times did Alec visit you?” Izzy inquired as she wrote.

He raised his eyebrows, charmed. “Isabelle Lightwood, are you asking for my number?”

Her demeanor changed from professional to practically fervent and winked at him when she looked up.

“Alright, let’s see…” Before the memories went away, he’d been without Alexander for over a century. And before that, his visits varied between several weeks to years apart. “I’d say… almost 300?”

“Thousand?”

“No!” he squeaked. “Just 300 or so.”

“Hah, sorry. I just… I didn’t know how old you really were, so I assumed Alec visited you more often than that.” She moved away from the table to fetch something from a counter.

“How old did you think I was?” Magnus teased.

“I don’t know!” She returned to the table and stood next to Magnus. “You could be thousands of years old and still look smoking hot in that vest,” she responded and bumped her hip into Magnus to scooch over.

“And you?” he urged.

“I think I’m in the 500s by now?”

Magnus whistled, impressed. “He must really like you.”

Izzy was hunched down, but shot upright. “Wow, you think? I think Jace’s number’s higher.”

“I mean… he’s in love with him, right?”

“Yes, thank you! Finally, somebody else knows!” She took a deep, satisfying breath and went back to work.

“When Valak extracted what he needed from Alec, I thought it was because they were parabatai. But then he disappeared and I knew…”

“Mmhm.”

“Can you imagine when Alexander finally falls in love? When he marries the fool? That person’s going to deal with this circus,” he contemplated. “Or already has.”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” she warned. “Our parents are trying to find him a wife. _Wife_.”

Magnus choked. “They don’t know?”

She shook her head. “We both know about that marriage rune, but come on, he has to be happily married. I know he’s not really… warm and fuzzy right now, but Alec would never marry anyone he wasn’t in love with, right?”

“I suppose Alec’s just following his duty. Not everyone gets the luxury of following their heart,” he countered.

No wonder young Alec always appeared stressed and snippy. As acting Head, a parabatai, a shadowhunter, a time traveler, the son of vermin people, AND a closeted gay man, Alec never showed signs that he was struggling. To juggle everyday life and act like everything’s fine when he visited. If this was what present Alec dealt with, what else was Alexander hiding from him?

“How do you manage to keep up with everything?” Magnus went to fetch a chair as he continued to talk. “There’s present Alec, disappearing and then reappearing. There’s future Alec popping in and probably past Alec, too. I’ve never met a baby-face Alec before, but I’m sure he’s just adorable.”

“The cutest! And young Alec was here a few days ago.”

“See what I mean? How do you do it?”

Izzy left the table and brought her samples over to the spectrometer. “It couldn’t be any different than what you’ve been through,” she said over her shoulder.

“I’ve never had more than one Alec at a time. He would just…” Magnus mimics a ‘poof’, as if Alec was a genie.

“Oh. Well… I guess it’s like having six brothers instead of three.” She returned to where Magnus sat and continued. “Jolly Alec would be away for a long time, away with his amazing husband and family. Older Alec would be in charge of another Institute, injured a lot but still a brilliant shadowhunter. And then there’s kid Alec, away at the Academy, training and still full of vitality. Each one would make a surprise visit intermittently.”

“For me, he was like a dear friend who traveled the world and we would happen to find each other in the same city, every now and then. It was pure magic, the places he’s managed to find me in and vice versa.”

“As for the present,” she continued, “Alec disappears and… that worry never goes away, you know? There’s a drop in your stomach when he would take one last breath and then the clothes fall. It’s even worse when we’re out on patrol. At least, when it happens in the Institute, he can return in a safe space. And even then, we have to make sure there’s a stele, food, and clothes ready for him.”

Magnus never thought about it like that. How it would feel when Alexander disappeared and never knowing when and where he might return. In what state he might return. “Speaking of clothes, I had no idea that Alec’s wardrobe was so…”

“Boring? Predictable?”

“Fashionably challenged.”

Izzy cackled when the warlock groaned in misery. “Even when I try to dress him for missions, he gets fussy. On the night we met, that blue shirt was as extreme as he was willing to dress.”

“Well, we know how that outfit turned out at the end of the night. If I were him, I guess I wouldn’t worry about my wardrobe choices either. They all end up on the floor anyways.”

“What happened that night with the memory demon?” she asked, perplexed. “You say you’ve known him your whole life, but I don’t know… that moment you joined hands, it’s like you discovered him for the first time.”

He didn’t even consider how apparent it was when they touched, when all the memories flooded back. How could he explain to her the sacrifice he made for Alexander, the full magnitude of the situation at the time, and the pain of choosing to erase him from his life? She might understand, but a body was decomposing in the room. That would be a story for another time.

“It had been decades since I last saw Alexander… I’d forgotten what he looked like until that night, so when we bonded, it just… clicked.” It wasn’t the entire truth, but close enough.

“I can’t imagine going through decades without seeing Alec.”

“When you’re immortal, time passes in a blink of an eye. But when he did visit, time slowed. Not achingly, but enough to relish the moments,” Magnus reflected. She kept glancing between his hands and gaze, tickled by the way he rubs his fingers together. He noticed that Izzy was staring at him fidgeting and seized.

“He’s your best friend isn’t he? Enough to visit you that many times and picking up each other’s mannerisms,” she pondered. “You know, I never figured out if Alec picked that up from his future self or the other way around. Or if future Alec picked it up from you and then Alec picked it up from him?”

“Well, there’s always a modicum of paradox when it comes to Alexander,” Magnus admitted.

Izzy snickered. “You even sound like him.”

Magnus gave her a small smile. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to about this. About Alexander. There are three others, besides myself, that know all about this, but they don’t understand him like you do.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Warlocks?”

“And a vampire,” he confessed.

She pressed her lips into a hard line, deep in thought about others knowing about Alec, before her expression changed into one of pure understanding. “Alec’s my big brother and he’s a permanent part of my life, time travel and all. Jace was brought into our family around the same time Alec gained his ability, so this life’s all he’s ever known. It’s nice to talk to someone outside our family who gets it. You’re just as deep in this as we are.”

Magnus wanted to hug her but she was holding a chisel in her hands. “I’m sorry, are we having a moment in front of this Forsaken?”

Her nose scrunched when she smiled. “I should finish up here.”

“And I should go deliver my preliminary findings.”

As he was about to leave, Izzy called out to him. When he turned around, she gave him a kiss to the cheek and said, “See you around.”

Magnus made it out of the lab when he found a piece of paper slipped into his jacket pocket. They were directions to an abandoned basement within the Institute. When Magnus reached the bottom of the stairs, Raphael sped to the opposite end of the room, in disgust.

“For christ’s sake, can you magic the stench off your clothes?”

 

* * *

 

 

The sun was low in the sky when Jace and Clary left the Jade Wolf. They had a little more than an hour to decide what to do with Simon. To have him die a human death or give him a fighting chance to become a vampire? Both options were sitting heavy in Clary’s heart, so she begged Jace to have them take the long way back to the Institute. They walked for several blocks, hand in hand, in silence. They considered all the alternatives and talked with Simon’s loved ones before nightfall. She needed more time to think.

“Tell me a story,” she began.

“The last time I told you one, you got mad at me.” He squeezed her hand.

Clary squeezed back, bumping his shoulder with hers. “I need the distraction.”

“Okay, okay. Um… I was eleven. Alec and I were in Idris, running around our house. Can’t remember why we were running, but I remember dad hollering at us to keep it down. Alec didn’t want to upset him, so we played outside. We would just… run and run until our legs gave out. I looked over at him, drenched in sweat and smiling… and then he was gone.

“Was that the first time you saw him time travel?” she asked.

Jace nodded. “I thought I was dreaming, but then I saw his clothes on the floor, all soaked and warm. I called for Izzy, but she was doing something with mom. I had only been with their family for a few weeks and I thought… if I lost Alec, that was it for me. I was going to be taken away.”

“What did you do?”

“Nothing. A minute later, Alec reappeared in the same spot he left. He looked so scared, hunched over on the ground. And… I cried. I was… I was so happy to see him. I rushed over to him and we just hugged for a while. He kept asking if he could put his clothes back on, but I just keep holding him.

“My father always said I was special. That we were exceptional, powerful people. I never really understood why until Maryse and Robert took me in. They may have taught me about the shadow world, but Alec… that was the day I discovered how magical and… real this life was.”

“Have you told Alec about any of this?”

“I’ve tried. I think he always saw his ability as a liability. Izzy and I spent years trying to understand how it worked and the million ways we could help him. He knows I would give my life for him, all of him.”

He didn’t realize that they stopped moving. When a car beeped from the street, he snapped back into focus and Clary was looking at him with adoration. “What?”

She smiled meekly. “You miss him.”

“Pfft! We’re fine, Clary.”

“No, you’re not. But that’s alright. We’re gonna go back to the Institute and-and figure all this out. Okay?”

Jace grinned at her sudden charge and took her hand again. “Alright.”

“Good,” she croaked. “Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus knew his way around the main floor of Institute and made a beeline for the training room. Izzy was completely right. Alec was deep in concentration, beating the hell out of that punching bag when Magnus entered the room. He looked forward to seeing the shadowhunter again, but it was a treat to find him shirtless, dripping in sweat. It truly was Christmas morning.

Of course, he’d seen Alexander naked hundreds of times. He’s healed him naked, walked in on him naked, and dressed him with one snap. He knew every scar, every variation of runes on that body. But then again, it’s been over a hundred years since he’d seen the time traveler. And in the times since they’ve met, where Alec traveled in his loft, Magnus was preoccupied with other matters to even notice him.

Fucking hell, he couldn’t stop staring. He wanted to thank the setting sun for the beautiful glow that shined through the stained glass windows. He wanted to thank the punching bag for giving Alec release. Sweet, sweet release. And he wanted to thank Alexander for his existence because… look at that glistening body.

“Magnus,” he breathed.

He knew that body inside and out and yet, this was present Alec. He doesn’t know this body – this lean, fit body – but at this rate, he can’t wait to familiarize himself with it again. He should… he should really stop staring.

Magnus blinked, winding up his jaw from the floor. “Okay, I'm back.”

Alec darted his eyes at the warlock and walked past him. When the other realized that he was grabbing a hoodie to cover himself, Magnus felt guilty for making him uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry, you don't have to get dressed up for me,” Magnus said. When it was clear that Alec wasn’t going to zip up the hoodie, allowing his chest to still show, Magnus murmured, “Fine, but I liked what I saw.”

It was becoming harder to concentrate with Alexander breathing heavy in the dim glow. Magnus felt the paperwork in his hands and that alone kept him present. “I have the preliminary autopsy findings.”

He took it and immediately tossed it onto the table without a glace. “Why are you giving this to me? This should go to the head of the Institute.”

“And it is,” Magnus corrected.

“No, I'm not,” Alec retorted. “And I never will be. Magnus, it’s… it's like my whole life has been a lie. Now, everything I've ever known-”

“It's not what you thought.” Alexander was referring to their text conversation and his heart sank. At the same time, he felt like he was floating. Even though they were just starting their friendship, Alec was willing to open up to him. It was starting to feel like old times.

“I've done everything for my parents. And for the Clave. I've done everything that they've asked.” His voice cracked, clearly pained by the revelation. “And do you know what’s the worst part? Alec never said a word about it.”

“Well, you can’t exactly blame him. I’m sure secrets just eat him up inside every time he wanted to say something to you, but couldn’t.”

“But he-”

“Who would you be today if you had known sooner? If he had told you sooner, say when you were fifteen, what would you have done? Would you have told Isabelle? Jace? What about that secret you kept about Max? Why did you keep it to yourself when you could have told someone? Would your mother still have him?”

“Yes!” Alec exclaimed with more attitude than necessary.

“Then, why say nothing?”

“Why are you defending him?”

The two stood in stunned silence. Neither one knew how to respond, unsure where to go with their conversation. One drip of sweat was trickling down Alec’s chest, which gave Magnus something to look at. It was just dangling in front of him and all he wanted to do was just… lick it off his chest. Alec cleared his throat and zipped up the hoodie. Magnus blinked and drew his attention back to their conversation.

“Isabelle mentioned that future Alec’s somewhere around here.” Magnus tried to keep it light, but it felt strained.

The shadowhunter rolled his eyes. “Now I’m competing against myself?”

“Alec.”

“No, I get it. He’s happy and all-knowing and I’m just…” Alec pressed his lips into that pout Magnus hated when he was upset. “What is it about him, Magnus? I- He’s… how do I get there?”

“I’m gonna give you the same advice you once gave me,” the warlock offered. “Screw them. Do what’s in your heart and start living for yourself.”

Magnus tried to hold in a huff, aware of his place in the present. At the time, Alec said he received this advice from an old friend. Now that the words left his lips, Magnus saw the humor in ‘old friend’.

Alec’s breathing finally normalized. “I can't believe I’m saying this, but I think I’m right.”

Magnus smiled, a chuckle bubbling in his chest. Alec gave him that lopsided grin in return, which made his heart flutter. There it was again, that feeling of ease and warmth that Alexander brought when he visited. It was so easy to fall into his orbit and it was something Magnus missed the most.

“I, uh… I gotta go,” Alec said, grabbing his water and tucking the file underneath his arm.

“Of course. Call me if there’s anything else you need to know for-”

“Right. I mean, thanks.” The shadowhunter rushed out of the room, leaving Magnus behind.

Was that going to be a common thing for him – retreating after every interaction?

 

* * *

 

 

The shower was a great place to think. Alec would let the water wash over him and whatever thoughts he had would go down the drain. In there, he could think about how Magnus gawked at him in the training room. Jace never looked at him like that before, but Alec knew from experience that Magnus looked at him the same way that others would look at Jace. How he must have looked when he ogled, too. Magnus called him pretty boy and showered him with innuendos, but he also challenged him and made him feel… significant.

He was beginning to grasp the benefit of having him in his life – he needed someone like Magnus to keep himself in check. There was something about him that could get through to him in a way Jace and Izzy couldn’t. Maybe it’s because they didn’t have a history together, per se.

 _I’m gonna give you the same advice you once gave me_ , he said. There it was again, that ache in his gut when someone would bring up something that hasn’t happened yet. It’s another secret, another commitment to fulfill in a future visit.

On the other hand, the advice Magnus gave him might have been a fixed point in time. He had to pass on the message to him and one day, he will return the favor. It’s just like the first night he traveled and met future Alec. The rules that he took to heart were fed to him because he was him.

He didn’t want to think about the man asleep on his bed, the future him that hasn’t returned to his present. He punched him and someday, he’ll be on the receiving end of it. He’ll have the wisdom and burden of reliving this hell, unable to get back home.

Even after Alec climbed out of the shower and dressed, older Alec remained asleep, curled into himself on his bed. He was no longer mad at him, but envy stayed. Although they were the same person, he was also not him. The man on the bed experienced a full life still mysterious to him. One day, he’ll decide that growing a beard would be better than having to shave every day. Older Alec did cut his hair, tidy yet soft. There were runes all over his body that had yet to make a mark on him. These were visual cues that separate him from the other Alecs, a big reminder that he was not the person that Magnus grew up with.

Alec sat on the foot of the bed, careful to not disturb the other. He opened Magnus’ preliminary file and slowly read through his findings. He recognized his handwriting from the other reports he had written, but Alec analyzed this one with newfound admiration. Magnus was detailed in his conclusions and thoughtful in his hypotheticals. Most other reports would have scratched-out lines, due to error, but this report was pristine. Magnus Bane was a perfectionist. He wrote like he spoke – lyrical and full of… enchantment. Alec ran his fingers down the paper to feel the grooves of his penmanship, but there was none. Did he really magic this report into fruition? Alec allowed himself to smile, in awe.

That feeling of warmth and wonder carried with him to the study, which instantly died the moment he heard Lydia say, “The Clave has spoken: They will be taking full control of the Institute. With everything that's happened here in New York, plus your history with the Circle, and now Valentine's return, the Clave believes the Institute's at risk.” He overheard his parents arguing and pleading with her. But in the end, the law is hard, but it is the law.

A thought that scared him that day was becoming a reality: they were the last of the Lightwoods to run the Institute. He had to deliver Magnus’ findings first and then figure out how he was going to fix this. It was going to take a goddamn miracle to gain back the Institute from the Clave. They were going to have to work like hell and beg for mercy. It will require sacrifice.

When Alec returned to his room, he had his answer. Future Alec always had all the answers.

 

* * *

 

( _years and years later, Alec is 38_ ) 

 

 

It’s late into the morning when Magnus hears Alexander in the hall. This time, he’s been away for a little over an hour, which isn’t a long time to miss him but he always misses him.

Magnus greets him when he enters the bedroom, Alec already dressed. “I was wondering when you might com- hrrmp.” Alec interrupts him with an eager kiss, open-mouthed and messy. “Alexander,” the other sighs into his mouth.

“You won’t believe when I just came back from,” he says, climbing into the bed to snuggle.

One close look at Alexander and his heart begins to race. A black eye graces his face. “What happened to you, my dear?” He holds his face tenderly in his palms, stroking the bruise, which makes Alexander wince.

The time traveler chuckles. “Would you believe me if I told you that _I_ did this to me?”

“Pfft, yeah. You were kind of a dick back then.”

Alexander responds by jabbing at his husband’s sides in retaliation, which makes Magnus keel over in laughter.

“Okay, okay! Wait, wait, wait! Love, please!” he pleads between his fits of giggles. When he finally stops, Magnus continues, “When did you punch yourself in the face? Was I there?”

“Yes and no. You were there, but not when I got punched.” Alec climbs on top of Magnus and lets his dead weight cover the other, like a blanket. “Do you remember that day when you had to examine a Forsaken and then we talked in the training room?”

“The one from the Jade Wolf?”

“Yeah. The day Lydia first came to the Institute.”

Magnus loves it when they can pick apart a memory together and this one’s memorable because of one thing. “Wait… wait a minute.”

“By the angel-” Alexander picks up on the other’s revelation and reaches over to cover his mouth before he can say it, but it’s no use. He’s already breathless in laughter, wiggling underneath him to escape from his hand.

“Wasn’t that the day you-” “Magnus…”

“-proposed to-” “Shhhh.”

“Lydia?” Magnus mumbles into the hand. Alec feels that giant, goofy grin underneath his palm before the warlock starts biting him.

Hovering over him, Alec shakes his head and removes his hand. “Well, I was only acting on a piece of advice from this ancient, ugly-looking warlock. He said, ‘Screw them. Do what’s in your heart-’”

“-and start living for yourself,” Magnus recalls. “What terrible advice.”

“Wha- How was I supposed to know you’d run with it and invade the Silent Brothers?”

“Me?” Magnus rolls them over, now on top of Alec. “How did you hear that and thought, ‘Huh, I should marry Lydia Branwell after knowing her for a day?’”

“And I would have if _someone_ didn’t barge in on my wedding day!”

Magnus lowers himself and kisses him, wild at first. When their tiny laughs die between their lips, the kisses slow, passionate and full of deep moans. Alec reaches down to feel his husband's boxer briefs and finds only skin. Just as he pulls away to gape at Magnus, he hears the hurried footsteps down the hall before the screaming.

“Papa! Papa! Look what we made!”

“By the _angel_ ,” Alec groans as Magnus rests his forehead on his. In that small moment between feeling his husband’s body leave him and when their kids rush in, Alec realizes that he’s made it. He’s been this person for a long while now, that he is future Alec. He is Alexander, the person Magnus grew up with and the person he chose to love in the here and now.

He’s happy. Stupidly, infinitely happy.

 

“Dad, what happened to your eye?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've tried dozens of times to get emojis to work, but it's just not going to make it today! Grr.
> 
> Anyways, I hope the two extra days were worth it! Thanks again for everything. You're amazing, yes you ♥


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"You can't predict the future. It turns out that you can't predict the past either. Time moves in both directions - forward & backward - and what happens here and now changes them both."_  
> \- Nicola Yoon, _Everything, Everything_  
>   
> 

 

 

If a Forsaken attacks the Institute in the middle of a proposal, is it considered an omen? A relentless, vicious omen?

If the universe is punishing him with a Forsaken wound to the left arm, he couldn’t bear to think what Lydia’s reply might be. If she says no, he would risk embarrassing his family with a rejected marriage proposal and the Institute will be ripped from his family for good.

And yet, she has to say yes. She’ll say yes because future Alec has the marriage rune.

“Alec, why do you want to marry me?” Lydia asks.

She sits at the foot of the bed in the infirmary, just her and Alec. She doesn’t ask out of concern because she already knows why he needs to. But why does he _want_ to? His parents want this to restore honor to the Lightwood name and with Lydia, as the current head of his family’s Institute, they can run it together. The solution seems plain and simple: the decision is his own to make and it makes sense. Years down the road, he will say the same thing he’s saying now.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Alec replies.

Lydia doesn’t say yes. Instead, she says, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I accept your proposal, Alec Lightwood.” Her voice is a touch overwrought, unsure how to react. She stands up when Robert enters the room and straightens her blazer. “I should go inform the Clave about what’s happened.”

“Lydia? Uh, thanks.” He closes his eyes and takes in a sharp breath, in embarrassment. Did he really just thank her for accepting his proposal?

She gives him a hint of a smile before she ducks out of the room. They both have an understanding that this is nothing more than a political engagement. There is nothing about Alec that could replace what she’s lost and nothing about Lydia will fulfill what Alec desires the most. It will be considered one of the least romantic gestures that Alec ever makes.

Not many shadowhunters get the chance to marry for love, but a marriage out of duty usually grows into a partnership built on respect. He can trust Lydia, which is a big deal for him. Considering that Jace abandons him, Izzy fights with him, Clary defies him, and his parents lie to him, Lydia’s the one person he needs right now. And with the ongoing battle against Valentine, having her and the Clave by their side will be an advantage.

If future Alec is happy, his decision in choosing Lydia solidifies that fate.

“I checked your room and Alec isn’t there anymore,” Robert says in a hushed tone, looking over his shoulder. When his phone pings, he groans at the incoming message. “Magnus Bane is back. Get some rest while I go get Lydia.”

Alec rolls his eyes and climbs out of the bed. “She already knows I can travel, so don’t bother with… _that_. And I’m sure the Clave won’t take it lightly if you pull her away right now. I’m going with you.”

“You need to heal,” his father commands.

“I’m going. End of discussion.” Robert doesn’t stop him when Alec walks out the door.

As the High Warlock feeds protection spells into the Institute walls, Alec wonders why he’s never seen Magnus do this before. Do they hire other warlocks to do the job at a cheaper rate? His inability to be in multiple places at once would make opportunities to observe scarce. Because, frankly, it’s mesmerizing, seeing the sparks and blue flames dance across the walls. And for a short while, Alec allows himself to get lost in it.

“Are the wards solid now? Nothing will get through?” Robert implores.

“Even my magic has limits,” Magnus confesses, as he seals up a section of the wall. “The wards won't hold off another Forsaken attack, but my protections will slow them down.”

Robert huffs. “Extra time is priceless.”

“No, no. Say that _after_ you get my bill.” The High Warlock continues to saunter down the platform to reopen their wards with finesse. What is it about performing this type of magic that makes Magnus appear so agile in comparison to healing Luke?

“Lydia will take care of that.” Because of course when an attack to the Institute involves Valentine, the Clave is now reluctant to pay the price for protection. Now that the Institute is theirs, they are now subject to Magnus’ worth.

“A Forsaken wound often needs a little warlock TLC,” Magnus offers, turning to Alec. Unaware that his father is no longer present, Alec jumps when Magnus approaches him. “May I? Free of charge, of course.”

Living in the Institute with the ability that he has requires immense faith in others to overlook the side effects of time travel. Every once in a while, he feels the stares and the gawking from those who aren’t familiar with his visits, but overall, anyone who resides in the Institute has become desensitized to Alec.

And yet it feels like there are eyes on him. This is the first time he is publically interacting with Magnus and it happens to be minutes after being newly engaged. Do they even know that he’s engaged yet? This place has a tendency to have news travel fast and if there’s word that Magnus Bane is offering him free services, there will be questions that he’s not prepared to answer once news of his engagement goes public.

The room is starting to feel claustrophobic and even the smallest movement feels colossal, as he grows hyperaware of his proximity to Magnus.

“It’s okay,” he snaps, immediately pulling away from his reach. “I’m fine, Magnus.”

When Alec manages to look over at Magnus, the High Warlock’s expression bears a striking resemblance to how Izzy and Jace would look at him in trepidation. Their eyebrows would arch up, forehead scrunching, and their eyes fill with worry and empathy. That look is usually followed up by an explanation of why they can’t help but worrying abo-

“If anything were to happen to you-,” Magnus begins.

“Magnus.” And there it is. It’s a strange sensation to feel this guilt for someone he’s just met. Even more so, there’s that familiar tug in his gut that appreciates Magnus for being so damn considerate. When he opens his mouth, Alec interrupts. “I’m good, alright?”

And just like Alec's siblings, Magnus purses his lips into a hard line and gives a nod.

It’s almost too much to handle. “I gotta-”

“Go?” Magnus finishes. “Of course. You should rest. And I should find Lydia Branwell. Payment upfront is just smart business. Where might I find her?”

“Not sure at the moment. But when I see her, I'll send her your way.” Alec hurries off before he does something stupid, like travel.

Instead of heading back to his room, Alec tries to find a way to keep himself busy. He would have a training session with Hodge, but after one look at Alec, he postpones their session to another day. He would have the shooting range to himself, but due to his wound, his arm isn’t able to keep the bow steady. Lydia is investigating something for the Clave, Izzy refuses to have him present at Ops, and Jace is talking with their parents. Even Max’s tutor turns him away in favor of keeping the young Lightwood focused. The moment he enters the training room and eyes the punching bag, Izzy drags him to his room and orders him to rest.

He could fight harder for them to let him do something, anything to take his mind off of everything, but he’s been operating on less than a few hours of sleep within the past week. The moment his body collapses on the spring mattress, he surrenders to a deep sleep.

Aside from the handful of visits to the infirmary and mundane emergency rooms, Alec rarely sleeps for long periods of time. Those instances only happen when he’s induced into prolonged sleep. Otherwise, his nightmares are what keep him up at all hours. Nightmares that involve being trapped in the past, his body unwilling to get him home. Sometimes they’re about him returning from a visit and finding out someone’s fatally injured or dead. Izzy says it’s normal to have dreams about that, especially the ones that revolve around Jace. They’re parabatai and Jace probably has the same kind of dreams about him, too.

By the angel, he hopes not. Jace wouldn’t dream about confessing his true feelings for him or dashing across the Institute to grab him and kiss him without a care in the world. Sometimes, the person isn’t Jace. It would be a faceless guy or someone he spots on missions, but Alec’s feelings towards him would feel real. Those kinds of dreams are the worst when the leftover feelings just linger longer after waking up.

At the moment, he and a small group of people are gathered in the study after hours. In this dream, he can sense both shadowhunters and downworlders alike. It feels… cozy in the room, everyone kicking back and enjoying each other’s company. Alec is on the couch with a guy and he can feel that they’re together by the way he’s resting his head on the other’s chest, the guy idly playing with his hair. He knows it’s not Jace because he’s in the room, too. Everyone’s talking over each other but none of it matters because the guy he’s with calls him Alexander in that fond, yet seductive voice and it sends shivers down his spine. The sensation alone yanks him out of the dream too soon.

Alec sleeps for all of twenty minutes and now, he’s fraught. He needs the punching bag.

 

* * *

 

 

Izzy storms into the training room, exasperated. “I was coming to wake you, but you weren’t in your room! What the hell are you doing?” By the amount of sweat dripping from his forehead, she calculates that he’s been at this longer than he’s slept. “You need more time to heal. You’re gonna hurt yourself,” she argues.

“I’m fine, Iz,” Alec responds between punches, before stepping away. “What do you need?”

“Lydia. She lured Meliorn into coming to the Institute and arrested him.” She scoffs as she paces the room. “He’s done nothing wrong and she acts like it's all out of her hands?”

He pauses to fix the bandage over his wound, cradling his arm against his chest. “What is he being charged with?”

“He’s under suspicion for working with Valentine and disclosing state secrets,” Izzy says with disdain. “You know he would never do that.”

“Actually, I don’t,” he winces through gritted teeth, attacking the punching bag. “And if you’re here to ask me to talk her out of it-”

“I want you to end this,” she interjects. “Alec, please.”

“Lydia would never do anything without clear orders from the Clave. I’m sorr-” He sucks in a breath and his eyes drift away for a split second. When he looks over, Izzy turns around to follow his line of sight.

“Hey! You alright?” Jace greets. Seeing him again gives her a huge sigh of relief and she doesn’t need the parabatai rune to feel it. She may not have a parabatai, but Jace is very much a part of her as she is a part of him. With Clary and Valentine in the picture, she can’t deny that she misses her comrade. It feels good to have him back.

“I’m fine,” Alec grumbles. Apparently, the same can’t be said for her big brother.

“I’ve been talking with Robert and Maryse. They're being sent back to Idris,” Jace announces.

“What?!” Izzy exclaims.

“Yeah.”

“Another order from Lydia?” She glances at Alec for a reaction, but nothing.

Jace looks between them. “Who's Lydia?”

“She's in charge of the Institute,” Alec says indifferently.

“She's what? Maryse didn’t men-”

“Temporarily, right?” Izzy voices, certain that Alec was hiding something. “This is still mom and dad’s Institute-”

“-which was under their control when the Forsaken got in,” Alec leads on.

“What are you saying?” Jace warns.

Alec finally turns away from training and faces them, out of breath. “Mom and Dad were members of the Circle.”

Izzy feels her stomach churn, in disbelief. “What?”

Jace shakes his head in denial. “They don't have Circle runes.”

“That's because they made a deal with the Clave prior to the Uprising,” Alec counters, while readjusting the bandage. “In exchange for their cooperation, they were pardoned.”

“You're questioning their loyalty?” Jace crosses his arms, a tell that her brothers are about to get into a full-blown argument.

“Valentine is back-,” Alec starts.

“-No.”

“The Circle is rising-”

“Alec, stop.”

“Jace, they're under suspicion!” he disputes.

“Robert and Maryse took me in. They raised me as one of their own,” Jace croaks. “I know what kind of people they are. They can’t be…”

“Are you sure? They _lied_ to us. For years, they've been telling us how to act. That we have to uphold the Lightwood name. Well, they're the ones who tarnished it. They're hypocrites.”

“And how long have you known?” Izzy steps forward to stand alongside Jace.

The three of them have had their share of secrets due to future Alec’s slip ups, both harmless and not. If there’s anything she’s learned from dealing with a time traveler, it’s how to read Alec when he’s hiding something. It’s not her or Jace’s job to pull the truth out of him. To know that there’s any truth to it is all they need.

Jace side-eyes her. “Iz, Alec would never hide something like this-”

“-Wouldn’t he? I’m just saying he-” she gestures to Alec.

“Guys, stop!” Alec hisses. “Okay, yeah. Your favorite Alec knew but he’s not the one who told me. Lydia did.”

Izzy feels her blood boiling, ready to snap. Just as she’s ready to go off, she hears heels hurriedly approaching.

“You must be Jace Wayland,” the envoy crows as she joins Alec, standing stoic. “Lydia Branwell. You're quite the legend back in Idris.”

When she extends her hand, Jace remains adamant. “Don't believe everything you hear,” he says coldly.

Her strained smile fades. “Did you tell them?” she inquires, looking up at Alec.

“Tell us what?” Izzy bites.

Alec closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “Lydia and I are engaged.”

“We're getting married,” Lydia affirms.

Izzy would give anything to rip that smile off her face. She feels Jace tense up beside her. Good, they’re in agreement on this. What. The. _Fuck_. “You're not serious.” Jace took the words right out of her mouth.

“You were supposed to tell them no,” Izzy concurs.

There’s so much she wants to say. Hell, she wants to beat Alec senseless to show him how wrong he is. But she remembers the marriage rune on older Alec’s wrist and curses that he’s gone. It’s done.

“It's your life to ruin,” she spits out and walks away before she gives Alec a black eye to match with future Alec.

 

 

Once Jace catches up with Izzy, she’s already in a heated argument with Robert in their parents’ living quarters.

“Where’s Maryse?” Jace interjects.

“Mom’s helping Max pack. They’re leaving this afternoon and he won’t tell me why.” Izzy darts her eyes at her father, mentally clawing his eyes out.

“Okay, first, we talked for what felt like hours and not once did you mention that Lydia is running the Institute,” Jace states.

Robert looks defeated. “Jace, I never-”

“Second, I just got back and I don’t get to hang out with Max? The instant Alec is engaged, you’re all just going to leave?”

Izzy smacks his arm.

Robert gasps. “Alec’s what?!”

“What happened while I was away?” Jace looks over at Izzy.

“Mom and Dad believe that in order to restore honor for our family, it would require a great _sacrifice_.” She hisses the last word directly at Robert. “And because there’s been scrutiny under their control, they want to marry off Alec.”

“Congratulations,” Jace quips.

“I didn’t mean for all this to… This is all moving too fast.” Robert heads for the door. “Wha- Who’s he engaged to?”

“Lydia,” they reply simultaneously.

While their mother has a switch that’s always on, their father rarely gets short-tempered with them. It plays out nicely into their whole good-cop, bad-cop dynamic. However, it’s dreadful to be on the receiving end of his temper. Thankfully, Robert excuses himself and rushes out of the room to find Alec.

Izzy lets out a frustrated groan, her hands wringing at dead air.

“What do we do?” Jace urges.

She shrugs. “I mean, the only other person we need to talk to is Jolly Alec and he’s not here anymore. How convenient.”

“He was here? For how long?”

“Not sure. Probably around the same time Lydia arrived.”

“Do you think he’s travelled to Lydia before?”

“No… I don’t know. Alec’s been traveling a lot lately.” They ponder the timeframe in which Alec, all of them, have been present since Clary’s arrival. Alec makes it a point that it’s been stressful since then, but this much activity is unprecedented.

Jace hums in contemplation. “Has he traveled again since the last time I saw you?”

She recalls the night Jace sneaked back into the Institute from dealing with Luke at Magnus’… _oh_. Izzy grabs his arm, her expression alive with revelation as she yanks Jace out of the room. Just as they step into the hallways, they spot Lydia and a handful of guards leading Meliorn into her office.

She locks eyes with Jace, a flash of distress before wrath. She takes off to the controls in Ops before he takes another breath.

 

* * *

 

 

He knew something was up when he saw Meliorn walk into the Institute. Hours later, he hasn’t felt him leave. Even though his magic felt tense, Magnus spent the afternoon strengthening weaker spots in the walls and improving the wards. If he had to readjust his schedule and turn away clients, in order to spend an entire day in the Institute, he’ll milk every cent he could get out of the Clave’s pocket.

He’d been working non-stop ever since Raphael called him about Simon. With Dante’s visit, questioning the vampires, portaling to Seelie territory, examining a Forsaken, and bolstering the wards, he’s had enough. Lydia had already paid him for his services in full and dismissed him, but Jace and Isabelle were waiting for him at the front.

Meliorn warned him about this. _Be careful of what they ask of you_ , he said. They unravelled their tragedy, how Lydia interrogated Meliorn and planned to subject him to the Silent Brothers. With Alexander’s allegiance to the Clave, he remained austere under Lydia’s command. They’re desperate and delusional to think that their next course of action should be to steal from Alexander.

“We prefer the word ‘borrow’,” Jace said.

“-without his knowledge,” Izzy added.

Theft wasn’t the issue. It was the betrayal. It’d be criminal – no, downright immoral – to even fathom breaking Alexander’s trust like this. With or without Lydia, these two shadowhunters were planning to conspire with a downworlder to steal from the acting Head of the New York Institute. Even if he’s High Warlock, he’d be implicated if their plan went south.

When he tried to walk out, Jace blocked his path and reasoned with him. “Magnus, ever since Alec found out our parents were in the Circle, he’s been messed up. He refuses to see the big picture.”

“If the Clave is willing to subject Meliorn to the Silent Brothers, if they're willing to go _this far_ , what do you think will happen if they get the Cup? This affects everyone.” Isabelle lived up to his expectations of being the most level-headed and the most intelligent member of Alexander’s family.

“Help us get into that safe,” Jace pleaded. “Help us stop this.” And Jace continued to be the perilous parabatai he has heard about, but his intentions were just. That was a surprise.

Magnus wanted to say no, just to see how everything would pan out. Would Alexander be bold enough to turn Clary in with the Cup and let Meliorn fall into the hands of the Silent Brothers? There could be a chance that he would do the honorable thing, but Isabelle was right. If the Clave had the Cup, there would be no peace for the downworlders. As much as he wanted to stand back and uphold his trust with Alexander, his responsibility to protect his kind must come first and foremost.

“You're both going to owe me. You owe me _big_ ,” Magnus stressed. “I'm talking 14th century: gold, rubies, definitely diamonds. And Alec can never know.”

“That's a given,” Jace noted.

This felt no different than the other incriminating things clients have asked him to do and yet, this left a bad taste in his mouth. As Meliorn forewarned, _there are things you may never come back from_.

Every chess player knows the feeling when they’re about to make the wrong move. The moment the chess piece is touched, there’s a ripple effect. Every move, every possibility, ends in defeat. That’s what it feels like when Magnus stands outside of Alexander’s bedroom.

Magnus hates the feeling of uncertainty, not knowing the course his decision will take and the magnitude his mistake will cost. Even as he musters his magic, the dread doesn’t die out. This is Alexander. He doesn’t know that Magnus is about to betray him, but does future Alec know? Has he been visiting Magnus all these years knowing that one day, he’s going to betray his best friend?

But this isn’t about him. It’s about Meliorn and the downworlders. This is him protecting the Cup from the Clave. The one thing standing between him and most powerful relic in the world is Alexander. Specifically, his stele. One snap and it will be in Jace’s hands. He’s moving the chess piece and there’s no turning back.

While he waits for Jace’s text, Magnus watches as the shadowhunter cleans his Forsaken wound. He knows he’s been heedlessly offering free services and it may not make a permanent dent in his reputation, it does affect his supply. At least, that’s how he justifies Alexander’s refusal to heal him earlier that day. It’s better than admitting that Alexander rejected him, in fear that other shadowhunters would see Magnus touch him and figure it out. It’s painful to watch his friend choose to suffer alone when he can easily ask for help. He’d do anything for him.

 

 **Jason (5:35)** – Done.

 

Magnus snaps the stele back before he looks up. Alec’s reaching for his jacket and heading out the door. Instead of making a quick escape and evading capture, the High Warlock decides to play decoy. Actually, he really needs to speak with Alexander, but if it buys more time for Isabelle and Jace to get away, it’ll be his pleasure.

“All done for today,” Magnus yelps when he’s sure Alec spots him. He clumsily feels the wall, avoiding eye contact. “Place is secure. I came to see how you were doing.”

They begin to walk, but Alec pulls him aside. “I meant to thank you for your advice. The whole "follow your heart" thing?”

“I can’t take credit for advice you once gave me. You should listen to yourself every once in a while.” Magnus chuckles.

“Still, I appreciate it. There’s… there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Alec takes a deep breath. “Have you ever been married? I mean, your file states that you never did, but-”

“Are you asking or are you _asking_?” Magnus teases, but his heart begins to race. “Because I think we should at least have dinner first-”

“No, Magnus. I-”

He raises his hand. “No, I have not.” Magnus tries to maintain a genuine smile, but he can’t bring himself to do it. “We can discuss the semantics of marriage another time. But legally? No.” His face falls for a fraction of a second. “Why do you ask?”

“I’m getting married,” Alec reveals. His voice croaks matter-of-factly, rather than with affection and bliss.

Magnus wants to be happy for him, but he’s just… in shock. It just doesn’t feel right. There’s a heavy weight in his chest and a knot in his stomach that tells him this isn’t right. In the future, Alexander travels to him, to his past, and each visit is a toss-up between married and unmarried Alexander. And when it comes to married Alec, he always appears happy and in love with his spouse. This Alec doesn’t look loved or elated to be engaged. This feels just… wrong.

“That’s… a tad sudden isn’t it? I mean, Isabelle told me about your situation, but we thought you were better than this,” Magnus responds.

“Well, she doesn’t know that I’m the one who chose to propose. I couldn’t stand letting my parents make decisions for my life, so I proposed to Lydia.”

“Or you could have told your parents n-”

“Magnus. Family is… it’s everything to me. You have to know that.”

“I know,” Magnus assures. “You’ve told me a number of times that your family means everything. It’s just that Alec-”

“I only found out last night that my parents were in the Circle and Alec knew all along. You said it yourself, it must be agony for him to keep secrets from me. I’ve seen the marriage rune, but I was never told who he’s married to. Did he tell you?”

He’s never heard a name, but he knows when someone marries the one that they love. The way they talk about that person speaks volumes. No, he’s never heard a name, but Magnus knows about the countless dates and the stress in the relationship with his significant other. No, he’s never heard a name, but he knows that it’s a him.

“Yes… well, yes and no.”

Alec’s eyebrows furrow. “Yes and no? I thought you said you know me.”

Magnus feels his fingers rubbing together in agitation. “I do, it’s just… I know everything and nothing. You would tell stories about being a shadowhunter, but I never knew you were a Lightwood. I’ve been living in New York for almost a century and not once did you mention you lived here as well. And when we talked about Max the other night, I said I heard about your little brother but I only learned his name that night. You talk, but never really say anything.”

“Well, I’m telling you now that I’m marrying Lydia,” Alec reiterates.

“But, you never said-”

“Alec lies, Magnus!”

Magnus snorts. “Obviously!”

The shadowhunter is just as stubborn as he remembers young Alec to be. There’s been far too many instances where the mere hassle of just talking with Alexander makes him want to reach into his mind and find out what’s going on in that goddamn brain of his. He’s never done it, but it never stops him from spewing magic flares in Alexander’s direction.

“Okaaay, then. Congratulations,” Magnus digresses, clearly miffed. “I wish you and Lydia the very best. Not that I would know…”

Alec begins to reply, but he refuses to let him have the last word. He closes his eyes and inhales sharply.

“Goodbye, Alexander.”

 

* * *

 

 

_We rule with our heads, not with our hearts._

_We rule with our heads, not with our hearts._

_We rule with our heads, not with our hearts._

_We rule with our heads, not with our hearts._

 

Alec repeats this in his head like a mantra, over and over until he believes it. Emotions are nothing but a distraction and emotions get people killed. Emotions make him travel.

Lydia always knew the right thing to say. _We rule with our heads, not with our hearts._

He wants his heart to stop pounding. For every reiteration of the mantra, a tiny voice utters “ _Do what’s in your heart. Start living for yourself.”_

He knows what he needs to do. Deliver Meliorn to the City of Bones, come straight home, and wait for further instructions. Simple orders. Just follow through and ignore the weight in his chest and feeling in his gut.

 

_We rule with our heads, not with our hearts._

 

With a handful of shadowhunters in the guard unit, showing up to the downworlder’s entrance to the City of Bones is considered a statement to the downworld. They are delivering a Seelie knight to the Silent Brothers and that alone will send a message to the world that this is a serious threat. Guilty or not, there’s no turning back.

Alec goes over the plan with his unit one more time before they make the descend to the entrance. They make it several yards away from the City when he hears threatening growls from the shadows, werewolf eyes floating against the black.

“Secure the perimeter! Do it now,” Alec bellows to the unit. “I'll take Meliorn inside.” With the team split in half, the remaining few follow Alec to the exterior walls of the entrance. There, Alec orders the rest to hang back.

One by one, members of the few vanish from thin air. Shadowhunter speed can’t compete with vampire speed, too slow to react and defend themselves. Alec hears Meliorn snicker beside him, a smile creeping on his face.

“Not too late to turn back,” Meliorn taunts, as they turn around and find no one in sight.

“Quiet,” Alec warns, a hint of hesitation in his voice. “I won't tell you again.”

They’ve made it this far. It’s simple orders and the feat is in sight. Ambush or not, he needs to ignore the guilt and doubt that’s growing in the pit of his stomach. There’s no turning back.

 

_We rule with our heads, not with our-_

 

“Alec!” Clary bellows from behind.

Is he imagining things? Only few members of the Institute know about this mission and of all people, how could this pathetic shadowhunter know that- _oh_. He feels his parabatai rune pulsate, goosebumps crawling the back of his neck. Standing between him and the entrance is Jace, stoic and unwavering, looking at him.

“You told me you were taking Clary back to the Institute. You lied to me.” As his anger begins to surface, he feels Meliorn squirm under his steadily firm grip.

“I did what needed to be done,” Jace proclaims.

“Alec, the Clave has gone too far,” Clary reasons as she rushes to stand in between him and Jace. “You have to see that. Please, just let Meliorn go.” Her feeble attempt at pleading with him makes him want to draw a silence ruin over her stupid mouth.

“I have my orders,” he bites. At this point, he’s practically digging his nails into Meliorn’s arm.

Clary’s face is wild with anguish, begging to be slapped. “You and your damn orders! Who cares about orders?”

“See? That's how little you know about being a Shadowhunter,” Alec hisses. “You couldn't possibly understand-”

“It's you that doesn't understand, Alec,” Jace cuts in, his voice level and firm. “Not this time.”

Once he delivers Meliorn, he can deal with this mess and go home. A few steps more and he can lash out, but Jace is the first to advance. He jumps Alec and hits the ground hard. Clary grabs Meliorn and rushes him away to safety.

It’s like the parabatai and brother he’s grown up with and loved disappeared and is now replaced by someone he doesn’t recognize. Someone who can’t see the reality of the situation. Someone who is choosing to defy everything they believe in for… for what? For her? This isn’t just emotions clouding his judgement, this is treason.

“You always broke the rules, but never the law. Not until she showed up,” Alec snaps, his voice harsh from fighting off Jace’s dead weight from underneath.

The other stiffens his hold, looking straight into his parabatai’s eyes. “You've had it out for Clary from the start. And now you're getting married, Alec? We both know what this is about.”

Alec scoffs. “Oh, do we? Okay. Why doesn't the legend, Jace Wayland, tell us what this is about?”

“It's about me!” Jace bellows. “It's about your feelings! It's because you're-”

Alec responds with a punch to his brother’s gut, pushing him off his body. Jace is committing treason and _now_ wants to talk about his feelings? It’s the first time Jace has ever addressed any feelings Alec had for him and it’s while he’s committing treason? Really? He wants to do this now, on the premises of the Silent Brothers. If he wants to be chastised, Alec is going to beat the sense back into him first.

He’s trained with Jace. He’s helped their younger selves train, advised them, and shaped their bond. He knows his weak spots and technique. And Jace knows his. This isn’t the Institute and Hodge isn’t here to stop them. It’s just the two of them, equal in power. Hit matches hit, kick matches sidestep, footwork matches footfall. It’s as though Alec is fighting himself and in many ways, he is. They’re parabatai. They are bound as one and fight as one. To fight against each other is to fight against themselves. Symmetrical. Far too equal.

But this isn’t Jace. This is someone he doesn’t recognize. This isn’t parabatai versus parabatai, this is shadowhunter against rogue shadowhunter. Order versus chaos. Time traveler against human. It feels that way and if Alec’s willing to admit it, it’s felt that way for a long while, long before Clary’s arrival. Alec isn’t fighting against himself, he’s fighting someone he’s wanted to be. Someone he’s wanted. He’s helped mold their bond into something chaotic.

Blow after blow, Alec manages to knock Jace to the ground and each time, Jace gets back up. Proving a point that he’s not giving up. He’s not going to let this die until one of them keels. It won’t be him. He won’t ever admit his feelings for him and let him win. Each time he gets back up, Alec is ready, stronger than the last blow. Even with his Forsaken wound, the searing pain drives him to fight harder. To beat the emotions down, again and again.

Alec feels his body move faster than he thinks, his mind on autopilot. He’s letting his head take control and the moment Jace attacks once more, the final blow lands his parabatai to the ground. This time, Alec pulls out a seraph blade and brings it to the other’s neck. One move and it’s over.

“Do it,” Jace breathes, challenging him. “Do it! I don't wanna be alive if we're on different sides, Alec.”

There he is, his parabatai. In that moment, he doesn’t see the traitor. He sees his brother, his best friend, his other half. The person he loves the most. And he’s holding a blade to his neck.

How did he get here? One second, Jace disappears and is replaced by a stranger, a threat, and in the next, he himself is now someone he doesn’t recognize. A man who’s about to hurt the only person that matters. This blade, these clothes, his breath, everything is foreign to him.

 

_We rule with our heads, not with our hearts._

 

And where did this get him? For too long, he’s convinced himself that emotions hurt more than help. Lydia’s story about how her husband died in Rio is prime example of how emotions lead to mistakes. Costly mistakes. But, the alternative can also be true. Just look at him.

He climbs off of Jace and sits on the ground, in defeat. And just like before, his parabatai gets back up again.

“Come with me. We'll fight Valentine the right way... together,” Jace pleads.

The right way? There’s no such thing. The right way’s what happened moments ago and now… nothing’s right. “If we do that, we… we'll be considered traitors. Like Mom and Dad.”

“I'm begging you, my parabatai... my brother. Please, Alec, come with me.”

 

_Do what’s in your heart. Start living for yourself._

 

Alec feels his body go into shock, catatonic from feeling everything at once. He can sense the impending pain and punishment if he goes with Jace and the gut-wrenching remorse if he abandons the Institute now. He’s engaged. His parents and Max are in Idris, unaware that Jace is about to be marked as a traitor. And his heart isn’t saying anything except, “No.”

No to Jace.

No to Meliorn’s charge.

No to everything.

He feels numb, ready to pass out. When he feels his body tingle, his ears ringing, he doesn’t fight it. He sucks in a final breath and lets the sensation take him away. He doesn’t even look at Jace when he completely vanishes.

 

And Jace doesn’t look back to find him gone.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy holidays! Less than two weeks til s2!
> 
> ❅ Thanks for the comments and the kudos ❅


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> " _You can’t get away from yourself by moving from one place to another._ "
> 
> -Ernest Hemingway, _The Sun Also Rises_

 

( _several months into the future_ )

 

 

 

The first thing Alec notices is the blinding light shining through the sheer curtains.

He shields his eyes and blinks away the spots in his vision. As the ringing subsides, his headache is centralized just above his left ear. He can’t stand just yet, so he feels the texture beneath him. With his body in the same sitting position as before, he’s thankful that he finds carpet under him.

When he turns himself around, he realizes he’s in someone else’s home. And the more he looks around, the sense of familiarity sets in. He can sense it in the details. There’s something… off about this place. He recognizes a painting or two, hanging on exposed brick, but he doesn’t remember yellow walls. The bookshelves are gone and a chandelier hangs from the ceiling. It feels bright and for a moment, Alec feels warmth until he notices the wooden spoon next to the cauldron on a coffee table.

Fuck. Is this Magnus’ lair? Is he really sitting on the floor, naked, in Magnus’ lair again?

He doesn’t have time to react when he hears shuffling in a distant room. Is he home? Alec’s mind scrambles to think of something to cover himself with, afraid to be caught. He stands up, his heart is pounding and hands shaking. As he reaches for a cushion on the couch, something brushes up against his ankles and scares him out of his skin.

“AHH! By the f-” Alec shrieks, placing his hand over his chest.

A shadowhunter –  the acting head and lethal, highly-trained shadowhunter – is spooked by a kitten. Judging by how unfazed the kitten acts around Alec, still nipping at his toes, this situation fairs better than being attacked by strays out there in the streets. It was… kind of cute. He reaches down to pet the kitten, the little ball of adorableness climbing up his shins.

A voice bellows from another room. “Magnus, is that you?”

No, no, no, nooooo. Not _that_ voice. ANYONE but that voice.

“Someone stopped by earlier, but I told them you’d be OH MY G-” Simon chokes on the last word, covering his mouth in shock. His eyes are blown wide open, but he doesn’t look away.

Alec quickly snatches a pillow and covers his groin. He barks at Simon to turn around, reaching for the curtains behind him, but all it does is make him come closer.

Simon shrieks, “Are you insane?! The sun’s still out!” with his hands up to shield himself.

“The sun? What does that-” Alec realizes the panic in the other’s behavior when he begins to hiss. “Wait, you’re a vampire?”

“Uh, yeah man,” Simon retorts. “Where’ve you been? Do they wipe your memories when you’re in Idris?”

He releases the curtain fabric from his grasp. “Idris?”

“You know, your mothership? I thought everyone’s supposed to arrive back next week.”

“That’s not- I know what Id- Can you at least help find me some clothes?” Alec snaps.

“Sorry! Right, okay! Um, clothes. Clothes, clothes, clothes…” Simon rushes past the purple area and disappears into the yellow hallway. “Magnus doesn’t let me go into his room, but let me…,” Alec hears a soft thud before distant whining, “Nope, still can’t get in there.”

After a few minutes of Simon babbling his way through the penthouse, he reemerges with a black satin robe in his hands. “I found this in the guest bathroom, so I figured it’s yours.”

Alec gives him a stern look, his eyebrows arching up – an unspoken command to turn around.

With his back to Alec, Simon waits all of five seconds before he speaks again. “You know, if you wanted to surprise Magnus like this, all you had to do was give me a heads up. I mean, if you’d just give me your phone n-”

“Simon!” Alec cuts into the air, his frustration taken out on tightening the knot around his waist. “Just… look, what’s the date today?”

“The date? What are you-”

“-What year?”

“What do you mean, what year? It’s… Wait a minute. Clary told me about this! You’re time travelling, aren’t you?” Simon does a lap around Alec, careful to poke him but Alec swats his hand away.

Alec smacks his hand when he tries to poke him again. “You do that again and the curtains are off.”

“It’s curtains for you, Rocky,” Simon grumbles in an accent Alec was unfamiliar with. Was he mocking him or was this a reference he doesn’t know or care for? When Alec doesn’t react in any way, Simon’s chuckle dies quickly. “But seriously, where did you come from? How does it work? Is there some sort of rune-”

His jaws were beginning to hurt from grind his teeth through this exchange. “Can you just be quiet for more than ten seconds? My head is pounding and this is… a lot.” He drops down on the couch, his head in his hands.

 

Alec feels time catching up with him. One second he’s holding a seraph blade to his parabatai’s neck and the next, he’s wearing a thin satin robe, sitting across from Simon on Magnus Bane’s couch – from one hell right into another. This is his life now, in heaven knows what year. Alec closes his eyes and retunes with his body, feeling for any signs of traveling back to his present.

Nothing. All he feels is Simon’ stare.

He tries to think about how far Meliorn has been gone, along with Jace and Clary. Have the others in the guard unit come looking for him? Do they see his clothes? Does Lydia know their mission failed? The longer he thinks about his situation back in his present, the more comfortable he is staying in this future.

Simon coughs. “Sorry, I know you said you need me to be quiet, but I can see your…,” he gestures to his groin. “Can I- Would it be alright if I sit there?” He points to the opposite end of the same couch Alec currently sits.

Rolling his eyes, he scoots to the end of the couch and adjusts the robe to cover his crotch. Simon takes it as his cue to hop over to the other end of the long couch. Aside from the occasional sounds of scratching from the back of an armchair, no doubt from the kitten, Alec hears Simon fidget from beside him.

“Alec?” Simon hushes, just above a whisper. “Is there anything I can do to help you?”

Admittedly, he does sound infuriatingly earnest. He could continue to ignore him, but he’s famished. This isn’t like travelling to his younger self or to Izzy and Jace, where they know how to immediately respond. This is Simon and this… lair is new to him. There’s no way he can navigate this time and place on his own.

“Clothes,” Alec offers under his breath. “Food and clothes.”

 

* * *

 

 

( _about 20 years ago, somewhere in the English countryside_ )

 

 

 

There was something about the way Ragnor prepared irish coffee that made the briefest visits all the more enjoyable. Was it the coffee bean he personally procured during his visits to South America or was it the immaculate collection of whiskey? Either way, Magnus found himself staying longer than he planned.

A week ago, there were whispers that Judas was planning to resign as High Warlock of Brooklyn. It was premature to assume a “sede vacante” of sorts, but with war in the shadow world’s undercurrent, there was no sense of leadership amongst warlocks. It’s as though Judas gave up and Magnus picked up the slack. One plea was nothing, two or three was just political turmoil. But to have had a handful of his kind and other downworlders ask this of him? To be High Warlock?

He didn’t doubt his power. He knew he earned it. His reservations were about the diplomatic aspects of being High Warlock. The political crap was ugly between the downworlders and the Clave, especially with the rise of the Circle. With that, he needed to deal with his own clientele while juggling downworlder business. He’s stretched too thin. He needed guidance from an old friend and former High Warlock of London. And truthfully, the visit was long overdue.

“Easy. Don’t take the job,” Ragnor advised.

“You don’t think I can handle it?” Magnus dared.

He chuckled into his mug. “If you could, you’d already be doing it.”

“I mean, I pretty much am.”

“Then, take it. Be High Warlock.”

Magnus took a long sip and slouched into his seat, dubious and tense. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Ragnor to talk him into it or out of it. All he wanted to hear was if it was worthwhile and his friend sensed that.

“Magnus,” he began, “you already know that you’re gonna be dealing with a ton of crap. Crap from shitty people on both sides of the law. Hell, even I’ve had to hold my tongue in front of the Enclave. Truth is, you’re gonna have to sacrifice a lot, even parts of yourself. It’s unavoidable.”

There had been High Warlocks that thrived under their control and others that caved under the pressure. There were some that turned vile and dangerous, drunk with power. He was still young for a warlock and had centuries to define what kind of man he will become.

Ragnor was cynical, broody, and honest. Centuries undid him, the experiences and memories chipped away like marble into a sculpture. Ragnor was a masterpiece, even on his worst days.

They sat in silence for the remainder of the morning, peaceful in each other’s company. Time would never slow and neither of them were surprised when the setting sun beamed through the windows.

“You know what I’m craving?” Magnus chimed. “Catarina’s chicken.”

Ragnor hummed, salivating at the thought of it. “I miss the smell. The aroma would just fill the whole house.”

“I’ve tried to make it a dozen times, but nothing held a candle to her Pollo a la Brasa.”

“Where do you suppose she is right now?” Ragnor stood up and walked over to the kitchen.

Magnus mulled over the thought. She could be anywhere right now, with her mundane fiancé right by her side. He wanted to see the world, so she was willing to comply. They never stayed in one place for more than two weeks, but she wrote whenever she could.

“The last time I heard from her, they were in Manila,” Magnus hollered.

“Never been.” Ragnor returned with a new cup of tea for the both of them.

“Still? I think it’s spring over there right now.” With one snap, Magnus summoned food for two from a restaurant back in Queens. A neatly tied plastic bag appeared on the coffee table in between their armchairs, the smell of arroz con pollo filled the air.

Ragnor quirked one eyebrow up at the other.

“What?” Magnus shrugged. “She’s not here and I had a craving.”

“But do we really have to eat out of those atrocious styrofoam boxes?”

He rolled his eyes and immediately dug in. They inhaled the food and the satisfied moans coming from Ragnor meant that it hit the spot for him as well. Moments after they finish their meal, they tried to fight off the food coma by taking a walk outside.

The evening was young and they were miles away from the next neighbor. Nothing but nature to accompany them.

“You know, being High Warlock means you can’t travel,” Ragnor offered, his mind still reeling about the job. “Not like… before.”

When his friend steered their conversations towards _him_ , they found tricky ways to avoid saying his name. Magnus wasn’t sure when they started this habit, but there was no way he was going to drop it. Not when he hasn’t turned up in over 100 years. And in the event that conversations brought him up, he’d steer it someplace else.

“Ragnor, I have clients across the US and around the world. I can’t cut ties with them because I’m High Warlock,” Magnus argued.

“And you won’t have to. I’m just letting you know just in case you had plans to start over someplace new.”

“I hear you, but I’m happy in Brooklyn.”

“Even if you… I don’t know, see someone…?”

“Ragnor,” he hissed.

“You said that if you ever see _him_ again, you would travel again.”

They were walking that fine line, using words like “travel” to bring him up again. But he’s right, he did used to wait until the city would tire of him. And if he loved the city, he’d wait for… _him_ to visit before he could explore other places again. Magnus used to worry whether _he_ ended up in places before he even thought about it. It’s possible, but the question never came up. It’s not like he’d been around to find out.

“I’m happy in Brooklyn,” he croaked. Magnus turned around and walked back to the house.

 

* * *

 

 

Ten minutes later and still no food or clothes. After a while, the commotion in the kitchen stops. Alec hears mumbling, either Simon talking with himself or he’s on the phone with someone. He takes it upon himself to get up and do something about it. He checks in on Simon in the kitchen for any progress.

When the vampire hears Alec enter, he turns around in mid-conversation. The shadowhunter shrugs, impatient.

“Alec, what year are you from?” Simon inquires, covering the receiver with his hand.

“Um, 2016,” he replies, more like a question than a confirmation.

“2016,” the other answers for the mystery person on the other line. “Okay. Hey Alec, before or after your weddi- What? But you said to ask- I’m sorry!”

Simon is lucky that he’s encountering THIS Alec and not one of his younger selves. A younger him would be on the floor, staggered by the new revelation. It’s clear now that whomever Simon is talking to, they know what they’re dealing with.

“I’m engaged, if that’s what you’re asking.” Alec walks over to the other, crossing his arms over his chest. “That better not be Magnus,” he whispers.

The vampire covers his phone again. “Of course not, he’d kill me if I called him right now. Besides, I want to help you, not watch you two- Luke, I got this. See you soon.” He ends the call.

“Luke?”

“I had to call for backup. There’s no food in here and I’m hungry, too. I figured you and he were tall, so why not ask him for clothes?”

Alec tenses up. So, Luke knows he’s a time traveler? If this isn’t his first time dealing with him, when’s the first and with which version? Certainly not younger Alec or else he would remember. No matter what, it’ll happen soon. Which means not only does a werewolf know about his ability, but a cop or two know as well. Alec remembers the gorgeous hair, dreamy-eyed werewolf that delivered Luke’s clothes.

“So, you’re engaged to Lydia right now?” Simon looks up at him, hands on his hips.

“You know Lydia Branwell?”

“Yeah!” His toothy smile shows off his fangs. “Wait, so… If you’re still engaged, does that mean I’m still a mundane where you are?”

Alec shakes his head.

“Oh.” Simon’s face falls. A few moments later, his face is bright again with a new thought. “Wait, you never explained how you got here!”

The shadowhunter takes a deep breath and leaves the kitchen to wander around the suite. The place is spacious but not enough to escape from Simon. He can’t go out to the balcony with a vampire in proximity and he’s just going to talk through the walls. The best he can do is distract himself while Simon keeps prodding him with questions.

They pass by the front door and down the hall towards the purple area. It wasn’t quite a library, but it was a beautiful niche.

“Clary tried to explain it to me once, but I always seem to miss it. Is it like the, uh-uh, butterfly effect? Do you ever change something in the past and it alters the present? Or, or is time-travel like Doctor Who, where there’s fixed points in time and you can die, no matter when and where?”

The pregnant pause means Simon really needs Alec to answer. He doesn’t understand half of what Simon is saying, but he answers, “The second one.” He’s not familiar with the scholar Who, but the theory sounds right.

“And do you get to choose where you go? Are you like Dorothy? Tap your heels and think of a place?”

“… Dorothy?” Alec hovers over to the book collection, tracing his fingers over the ancient spines.

Simon switches from his right to his left side, trying to gage for attention. “Wizard of Oz. Do you have control over this… thing? When you go? Where you end up?”

“No,” he stands up straight to look down at Simon. “I never know where I end up. I just get this… this… feeling-”

“Oh, oh! Like, um… like the Hulk! ‘That’s my secret, Cap. I’m always angry.’ WHOOSH!” his hands ball up into fists and punches the air. “Is that why you were angry all the time?”

“I’m not angry all the time. I-” Something catches Alec’s attention from the desk across the room.

The desk clutter was covered with half-opened books and scattered notes. A jar filled with pens holds up a picture. Any other photograph around here wouldn’t spoil him in any way, but he’s particularly drawn to this one because he’s in it. Almost everyone is in it. Jace, Clary, even his mother and Max. They’re dressed in formal wear, attending a party. Alec is still clean-shaven, so the party is in his immediate future. Each one of them is smiling, half of the group looking at Max. Alec looks at Max, smiling wide, but that’s not all that’s happening in the picture.

Magnus is standing beside Alec, the two holding each other at the waist, and looking at him with such… fondness and wonderment. This photo is a window into his future, but it doesn’t feel real. He looks at himself in this picture and he doesn’t know who he is. Alec picks up the photograph and flips it over.

On the back, the elegant handwriting reads ‘ _Alexander, 2016_.’

 _Alexander_. Why does he call him that? Ever since they met, that’s all he’s ever called him. Alexander this, Alexander that. Never Alec. According to Magnus, he’s been in his life since he was a young boy. How many centuries ago is that? And in all that time, he’s been calling him Alexander? Because it never feels wrong when Magnus says it. Like everything he says, it sounds like music when he says his name.

 _Alexander_. Just like the mystery guy in his dream. He coos his name and the shivers wake him. The Alec in that dream looks like the Alec in the photo. Happy. Now he dreams of Magnus, beautiful and inimitable Magnus, saying his name and he’s happy.

 _Goodbye, Alexander_ . Those are the last words Magnus says to him, before leaving with Meliorn. He’s now holding a picture in his hands, evidence that there’s a future with the two of them. Standing together, no space in between, and they’re happy. And yet, in his present, why does it feel like he lost Magnus for good? He still remembers the gutting aftershock as Magnus walked away from him. _Goodbye, Alexander_ – it feels like a slap in the face.

Older Alec has the rune to prove that he’s married. The phone call earlier confirms that there will be a wedding. He’s engaged to Lydia Branwell. And yet, he’s standing in Magnus’ lair and holding a photograph of the High Warlock beaming at him. A lot of things in his life never makes sense, but this-

 

“Alec, Luke’s here.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Ragnor arrived back at the house, he allowed Magnus to drive the conversation. They talked about little things, memories about their past adventures, and Catarina. She was always a neutral ground to talk about without having to bring up a certain someone. After all, they had a much richer history than someone who visits intermittently.

After a while, their discussions came to a moot point. They fell into a comfortable silence and Ragnor wondered if he could bring up him again. Despite Magnus’ refusal to talk about him, he needed to address it if he wanted to be High Warlock.

Historically, Magnus had a tendency to drop everything when _he_ visited. If, in the event that person decided to show up again, how would Magnus handle it? Hell, what if it was the real deal? The real him? Ragnor had only dealt with Alec for a few weeks at a time and every moment was spent with Magnus. High Warlock wasn’t a position to take lightly and to leave the post would be more complicated that just giving a two weeks’ notice.

When he was sure that Magnus was ready to talk again, Ragnor took the chance.

“Listen, don’t be cross but we need to talk about him. There’s something that I need to know and you have to be frank. After that, I promise we can drop it and never utter his existence again.”

Magnus stared at him, brows furrowed. After a few moments of contemplation, he gave the other a small nod to continue. The unspoken agreement also meant that he wanted Ragnor to tread lightly. He could snap at any moment.

“If Alec were to walk into this room, right now, what would you do? What would you say to him?”

 

He used to dream about the day he reunited with Alexander. Sometimes he was happy, running to his arms and busting into laughter. Other times, it would be as simple as slapping him in the face or throwing him against a wall with magic. He deserved it. More often than not, his reunions with the time traveler were of Alexander dripping with apologies and Magnus crying in relief. It used to be so hard to wake up from those dreams, the emotions still lingering. He’d go about his day in a pensive mood, blaming someone who wasn’t there.

It’s been over 115 years since the last time he saw Alexander. Since that day in Camille’s house, there was so much left unsaid. As the year went by, he held on to these thoughts and questions. Everything he wanted to know, everything he felt, he held in his fists like sand. He was furious, desolate, and he just… he missed him. He missed how much brighter his life felt when Alexander showed up.

Magnus tried to make the most of the liminal space, discovering new things and meeting new people. But every single time he experienced something, he’d look up, turn around and hoped to find his best friend standing there to share it with. Every once in a while, even now, he’d catch himself doing that – looking around to find him.

What would he say if Alexander walked in now? A part of him wondered if he would unravel everything that happened since the last time he saw him. All 115 years – the Depression, the speakeasies, Etta, Raphael, the mundanes, WWII, Catarina and Hector, Ragnor and Victor, this High Warlock business, everything. He would run his mouth dry until Alexander was caught up.

Another part of him hoped that they would just pick up right where they left off. _You visit me because you… you love me, right?_ Magnus asked young Alec. Would the next Alexander be young or old? Either way, he needed to know the answer. Why him? Why visit him all these years? And why hasn’t he been around?

 

_You would think it would be easy, you know? After all these years, it would make sense for me to fall in love with you, Alexander. But, I don’t. I don’t because it’s hard. I can’t because you always leave me. You’re never here and I learned how to be alone in your absence. And when you do appear again, I am reminded that I am immortal because I am alive in your present. Is it easier to love you when we meet in your present? Because honestly, I shouldn’t want that. A shadowhunter who disappears? Who would want that??_

 

Those words used to haunt him. Magnus blamed himself for putting the words out into the universe, as though he was willing Alexander out of his life. If he came back into his life right now, would he take those words back? He meant it at the time.

But now? He just wanted to know if he was okay. Because that was what mattered the most – when Alexander visited, it meant that he was alive and okay. Future Magnus, too. But then he disappeared and that was the hard part: the not-knowing.

That ache, that homesickness used to be impossible to ignore. Magnus wasn’t sure when it happened, but somehow he woke up one morning and the first thought wasn’t Alexander. It was small, but pivotal. Soon enough, he went a whole week without thinking about him. It got easier, like any past relationship, to move on. He had Raphael, Ragnor, and Catarina to lean on.

And now, he could be High Warlock and that alone could make him into something… magnificent.

And perhaps, they would meet again one day and he’d tell him about it. But, not today.

 

“My honest answer is: I don’t know.” The weight of his words cut through Ragnor.

There it was. And now, they never had to talk about him ever again. Magnus conjured a portal and they said their farewells. The visit was longer than he expected, but still felt too short. Ragnor watched the portal vanish, his dear friend gone back to the States. He took a deep, long breath and settled back into his armchair.

He glanced at the blank canvas across the room, propped up against an easel, and rolled his eyes. When he magically snapped, the canvas morphed into the bane of his existence – Alexander.

The warlock drew a new glass of whiskey to his mouth. “You’re bloody awful, you know that?”

“Ragnor, I-” the time traveler cried from behind him.

He refused to even look at the nephilim pest. “Save it. I don’t care about your fixed points in time or your bloody rules. Magnus is hurting. He can’t even bring himself to say your name anymore.”

After a moment of silence, Ragnor looked over to where Alexander would have stood and watched a blanket drop to the floor. Gone.

 

* * *

 

 

When Luke says he’s bringing clothes, he really means he’s bringing over Alec’s clothes, even a pair of boots. He walks through the front door with the garments on one arm, holding the boots in hand, and a brown paper bag with the other. Alec thanks him and rushes away to change while Simon digs into the bag for the styrofoam cup to drink. Even before the shadowhunter reaches the kitchen, the aroma of chinese food fills the air – beef and broccoli, sweet and sour chicken, and spring rolls.

“Dig in.” Luke hands him the sweet and sour carton.

“Thanks for this. And for the clothes.” Alec finds the biggest piece and chows it down whole. With clothes on his back and food in his stomach, he feels… relieved. Stabilized.

“You should thank Clary. It was her idea to leave a set of clothes in the car.”

“Nice!” Simon chimes in.

Huh. Luke, Simon, and Clary? He doesn’t visit the future often, but never has a visit been so accommodating. This is the first time in a long while that a future visit revolves around downworlders. It’s always been with mundanes or other shadowhunters. It feels like he’s been at this for decades and time travel still continues to surprise him.

“So, where are you coming from?” Luke asks the time traveler.

“He said he’s engaged to Lydia, so-” Simon interrupts.

Luke flashes him a warning look. “Shhhh. Let him talk. What happened before you got here?”

They wait until Alec finishes the carton to answer. “Meliorn was supposed to be delivered to the City of Bones, but there was an ambush and…” Alec lets out a shaky breath.

He looks up to find Simon and Luke giving each other a knowing look before glancing back at him.

Alec throws his plastic fork on the table for dramatic effect. “You two were there that night, weren’t you?”

Simon opens his mouth to argue, but Luke holds his hand up. “What happened happened.”

Alec nodded. He recounts the memory, still fresh in his mind, rubbing his fingers together in frustration.

“Is that all, Alec?” Luke urges.

He feels his lips form into the hard pout when he tries to hold his emotions in. “Um,” he begins, his voice is a hint shaky. “Jace and I fought. It was…” Alec shakes his head, unable to finish the thought.

Simon puts down the empty styrofoam cup and takes a step back. “I’m just gonna- the smell of the spring roll is making me, you know,” his hands wave in front of him at nothing in particular. “I’ll be over there if you need me.”

As soon as the vampire leaves the kitchen, Luke steps away from the island and backs into a counter to lean on. He folds his arms, deep in thought. “Parabatais are… incomparable. I don’t pretend to know what you two are going through, but fights between parabatai can feel fragile and earth-shattering, at the same time. Was the fight about Meliorn?”

“It was about… it was about everything.”

“You think you’re fighting because you believe the other doesn’t understand, but they do. They do and that’s what makes it hard. Jace understands you and loves you more than anything in this world, but when he fights, it’s for what he believes is right.”

Alec nods.

“You know, he told me about the time you disappeared for twelve days. That’s how I discovered your ability. You went missing again and Magnus-” Luke takes in a sharp breath. “The point is, no matter what happens between you and Jace, your bond can withstand anything. Remember that.”

Luke’s advice weighs heavy in his gut or that could just be the food.

His mind drifts back to the photograph sitting on the desk, Jace and him smiling at Max. Somehow, they manage to get through this, but how? And Magnus. He panics at the name Magnus. Why? Alec’s face twists in confusion at the thought of Magnus having to deal with a disappearance. What about Izzy? Where’s Izzy in the photograph?

“Luke, why is everyone at Idris?”

The werewolf tenses up at the mention of it, his jaw clenching. “I’m sorry, I can’t t-”

Alec doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence, high-pitch ringing in his ears. He feels food coming up his throat and braces himself against the countertop, but his hands are already gone. The next breath he takes, he’s back on solid concrete. He throws up, his eyes swollen. When he’s certain his entire form is present, he curls into himself and closes his eyes.

 

By the angel, he hates time travel.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! Less than 24 hours until s2!!
> 
> Thanks for reading, commenting, liking, existing, everything ☆.。.:*・°


	10. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I never felt my loneliness so clearly."_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> \- Frederic Chopin

 

 

“Magnus, it’s Catarina. Meet me in my apartment ASAP, I uh-,” her voice cracks, “it’s Alec. I think a Circle member was following me and somehow Alec fought him off, but he’s… it’s bad but I healed him. I don’t think this is present Alec, though. Should I call the Institute? What do I do? Portal outside my door when you get this.”

END CALL

 

* * *

 

 

Alexander had been unconscious for almost twelve hours and Magnus felt every second of it tick by. Each rise and fall of his chest brought contradicting emotions – anxiety and relief. He survived, but when will the time traveler return to his present? Which breath will be his last?

Catarina told him that she finished her shift late and knew she was being followed. It was a weekend in the heart of Brooklyn, what did she expect? She knew she could handle herself in mundane sort of situations, but this particular person moved like something in the shadow world. She thought she lost her tail, but an agonizing scream erupted through the air. When she turned around, she saw a dazed man, covered in blood, stumble into the street and collide with a taxi.

The driver rushed out of the car and grew frantic when the man tumbled off his windshield and landed on his feet, unfazed by the crash. Catarina caught a glimpse of a seraph blade, but the injured stranger ran off before she could do anything about it.

Although Magnus wanted to know more about how Catarina managed to send the taxi driver away without involving more mundanes or the police, his main concern was how she found Alexander. She never saw the blood-soaked man’s face, so Catarina extracted it from the driver’s memory. Akin to rewinding a tape recording, she retraced the last few moments up to the collision and saw that not only was the man impaled in the gut with a broken pipe, he was looking at someone in the distance before impact. The stranger emerged from an alleyway, where she found Alexander lying on the ground.

An I♥NY shirt stuck to a thick layer of sweat; Alexander’s breath shallow. He kept muttering “Jace” over and over. It was a good thing she leaned closer to hear his voice or else she wouldn’t have smelled the blood in his thick hair – a concussion.

And here they were. Half of a day gone and Alec has yet to wake up. Of course, Magnus cleared his schedule to watch over him and Catarina. After all, she was hunted down by a Circle member. Magnus offered to move them to his place for protection, but she refused. Anything could trigger Alexander into travelling back and they couldn’t afford to have him disappear in the state that he was in. Catarina monitored the swelling in his brain and thought it was best to have him under her care instead of taking him to the hospital.

They tried reaching Isabelle and Alec at the Institute but no answer. Magnus was worried that this was a future Alec, but when he arrived at Catarina’s apartment, a leaner Alexander was lying on her bed. No Forsaken wound on his arm, a few missing runes on his torso, and the fresh cut on his eyebrow would one day become a scar.

This was the youngest Alec he has ever met.

 

“Who is he?” a voice startled Magnus, dropping the book he was reading to the ground.

It’s been years since a departed warlock visited him. Sometimes they spoke to him and other times, he let them simply be. Magnus never understood why warlocks had this ability and he often wondered if he was just projecting, but nevertheless, it was rarely pleasant to say goodbye. And he certainly didn’t expect his former protégé to see him in this kind of circumstance.

Elias was standing at the foot of the bed, arms hanging at his sides. His head tilted to the side, curious about the unconscious shadowhunter.

“Elias,” Magnus breathed. “This… this is Alexander.”

“Alexander…” the ghost drew the name out like a question.

“Lightwood.”

Elias whistled as he walked around to the opposite side of the bed. “A Lightwood? And what did Alexander Lightwood do to deserve the Catarina care, instead of coming to you?”

Magnus studied the warlock’s appearance from where he sat. Same clothes, same makeup, even the same small smile on his face when he teased Magnus. The only difference was the missing horns on his forehead. He could feel the rough edges where the vile Circle member snapped the horns off, as though it was ripped from his own head.

“He saved Catarina’s life,” Magnus replied.

“You didn’t heal him,” Elias surmised.

He gave a small nod and finally looked away, returning his attention to Alexander.

“Then, why are you here?”

For the first time, it was his turn to take care of the shadowhunter, instead of the other way around. There was very little he could do to help, but he knew he needed to be there for him. Alexander’s ability brought them together over so many years, taking him away from his present and from the people who care about him the most. Just this once, they deserved to know what happened to him while he was away. If there was a way to reach into the past and let past Isabelle know that Alexander was okay, it would make all the difference in the world.  If only Isabelle would pick up the phone.

“He has known me since I was a boy,” Magnus hummed. “He’s my oldest friend. I can’t leave him.”

Elias straightened up. “Huh… You’ve never mentioned him before.”

“I only have myself to blame for tha-”

“Magnus?” Catarina leaned against the doorframe, hands folded in front of her. The calm in her voice masked her concern, following his line of sight to find nothing but air across the room. “Who are you talking to?”

The High Warlock looked back at Elias, but he was gone. And he never got the chance to say goodbye. That’s the thing about these visits from the dead: unlike Alexander, once they came and went, they were gone for good.

 

* * *

 

 

How long has he been gone? Hours? Days?

He’s wearing the same clothes. He’s not injured. And yet, the instant he walks into the Institute, every shadowhunter looks at him with shock and puzzlement. He can feel that something’s wrong, but no one is approaching him about it. They keep their distance and whisper amongst themselves.

Across the room, he sees Hunter, one of Lydia’s men from the guard unit, walking with Raj across the platform. They’re in a heated discussion until they spot Alec and pause right where they stand. As Alec moves closer, he can hear Hunter order Raj to find Lydia. Raj rushes past him, avoiding eye contact.

Hunter looks behind him and tsks as he asks, “Are Clary Fairchild and Jace Wayland with you?”

“No,” Alec replies, peeved by his patronizing tone.

“So, you ran off with them and decided to come back? Do you realize how-”

“I would never run away with them,” Alec spits out. “I travelled.”

“‘Travelled’?” the shadowhunter repeats, both hands gesturing air quotes. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Alec huffs and grinds his teeth, squeezing his fists tight at his sides. He can think of nine different ways to wipe that condescending smirk off that man’s pretty face, but he’ll never know exactly how.

In that moment, Raj returns and requests Alec to follow him immediately. Hunter sneers when Alec bumps into his shoulder and storms off behind Raj.

“Did you really travel again?” Raj demands, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

Alec is taken aback by his sudden suspicion. “To the future. Why?”

“What year?”

“Why?”

“Alec, just answer the-”

“Save it,” he snaps. “Tell me what’s happening.”

Raj takes a deep breath and looks around to make sure no one is in earshot in the corridors. “Look, you have to understand that when Jace and Clary ran off, we came looking for you at the City of Bones. Some of the other guys thought that you went with them.”

“But you saw the clothes on the ground,” Alec counters.

“Well, yeah. But after a while, you didn’t show up and…”

“And?”

“… some of us thought that you could have left behind a set of clothes as a diversion-”

“By the angel, Raj-”

“He’s your parabatai! Even Lydia couldn’t blame you for choosing him over her.”

“Now, everyone thinks I betrayed the Clave and abandoned my engagement? Where’s Lydia?” Alec turns around towards her office, but Raj grabs his arm.

“She’s telling the Clave about your return right now,” Raj says. “Lydia’s… negotiating-”

“Am I being charged with something?”

“… No.”

Raj has a tell. When he pauses, he brings a hand to his ear and awkwardly fiddles with it before he speaks. These are the kind of mannerisms Alec notices when other shadowhunters try to cover for Izzy and Jace during his absence. Or when they try to lie about his whereabouts to his parents.

“What then?”

“I can take it from here, Raj. Please return to your post,” Lydia calls out from the end of the hall.

Raj darts his eyes at him, a warning for what’s to come, before walking away. He turns the corner, but his footfalls go silent after several steps.

“Alec, it’s good to see you,” Lydia greets with a warm smile.

“That’s funny. I was going to say the same to you, but you told the Clave I committed treason,” Alec retorts.

“I did no such thing.”

“Everyone thinks I ran off with them and-”

“The _guards_ ,” Lydia stresses, “are the ones who came to that conclusion. I know you’re not the type of person to abuse your ability like that.”

“Then what am I being charged with?”

“Charged? Alec, we’re not arresting you.”

That… that doesn’t make any sense. All the stares and the whispers mean something is wrong. Raj specifies that Lydia is negotiating something with the Clave and if it isn’t about his arrest, then what is it? Lydia is giving him the same look that Izzy and Jace give when they are holding out on him – a secret about his past or future.

“I’m sorry,” Lydia confesses.

“For what?”

She signals for him to follow her around the corner, where Raj stood in front of a door. She motions the shadowhunter to open the door and Raj complies. When the door creaks open, Lydia steps aside to allow Alec to enter through the door and when he does, he feels his stomach churn.

“Izzy,” Alec croaks.

When Izzy hears his voice, she looks up at him with wide eyes and lets out a sigh of relief. From the couch, she stands up and takes a step towards him, but Alec whips around and approaches Lydia.

“Why is she under house arrest?” he implores.

Lydia bites the inside of her cheek before responding. “High treason.”

Alec feels the air sucked out of him. “What?! On what grounds?”

“Three members of the team stated in their report that there were shadowhunters aiding in the ambush. Outside of the guard unit, only a handful of people knew about the Meliorn op.”

“And everyone knows she's sleeping with him,” Raj recalls snidely.

Izzy scoffs from inside the room, crossing her arms as she stands up from the couch and walks over to the stained glass windows, her back towards them.

“ _That_ doesn’t make her guilty,” Alec quips. “Lydia, if she is convicted, she'll be stripped of her runes and banished. I can't let that-”

“Alec, don’t,” Izzy says calmly over her shoulder. “It’s not your fight.”

A piercing ringtone erupts and Lydia hastily digs into her pocket. When the screen glows across her face, her features hardened at the sight of the caller ID.

“I have to take this.” Lydia clears her throat before answering the phone. She pivots around Alec and disappears down the hall.

Alec steps into the room again, but pauses just beyond the door frame. He feels the rush of wind on the back of his neck when Raj shuts the door behind him.

 _High treason_ , Lydia decrees. A serious claim like that can only come from the Clave, which means his hands are tied. He can deal with his parents being ordered back to Idris, but Jace is on the run with Clary, which makes him feel more hollow.

Izzy is all he has left right now.

“Where did you end up this time?” Izzy asks, still facing the window.

“Me? Where the hell have you been?”

“Where I needed to be. Away from you and your fiancée.”

“Did you really have something to do with the ambush?” he demands.

When she turns around to face him, she pointedly glares at the two security cameras in the high corners of the room before returning her gaze. “Meliorn's alive,” she confides. “That's all that matters.”

Alec closes the distance between them and stands before her. “Look,” he begins in a soft voice, “I can't protect you if you don't tell me the truth.”

“I don't need protecting,” Izzy snaps.

“Just tell me this-” Alec starts, but his sister grabs his chin and pulls him down. “What- Hey!”

She examines his exhausted state, the fretful crinkle forming between her brows. “Your left eye is bloodshot and you reek. Did you throw up again?”

He lets out an exasperated sigh and closes his eyes.

“You need to rest,” she orders.

“No, we need to get you out of here.” Alec stands up straight, reaching beneath his chin to hold her hand. Through her trepidation, she manages to give him a small smile as she squeezes his hand.

“Raj!” Izzy bellows.

The door swings open and the shadowhunter saunters over and leans against the doorframe. “Time’s up, Alec.”

“Please go get some rest,” she reiterates. “Take care of yourself. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

 

He isn’t sure why, but at that moment, Alec recalls the photo he found on Magnus’ desk and he feels sick again. He always imagined having her by his side, no matter what happens in the future. So, where is she in the picture? A part of him hopes that she’s at least in attendance to whatever event they’re at and perhaps, she’s the one taking the picture.

However, Luke and Simon mention that everyone’s in Idris for something serious, but he couldn’t stick around long enough to find out why.

What if it’s because of Izzy?

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus takes her advice to heart.

He’s really trying to make an effort for Catarina to focus on his clients for the rest of the afternoon. He needs to take his mind off of Alexander for a while because, really, he’s worried over nothing. She’ll call him if anything changes. Or if he disappears. Especially if he disappears.

But, what if he wakes up? A younger Alexander meeting Catarina would be quite something. Has he ever dealt with downworlders who know about his ability? Do they know him as well as Catarina does? What if he wakes up and he starts hemmorag-

No. Focus, Magnus.

 

He pushes through the first two meetings with werewolves with ease – Marco, with food poisoning, and his former bouncer from Pandemonium, with minor wounds from a raid the previous night. Ty unravels the events of the night and how Luke’s sentimental attachment to some puny vampire and a shadowhunter got him in this mess. His injuries are not shadowhunters’, but a few vampires couldn’t help themselves from getting a rise out of him and a few friends.

Although the quarrel between the two groups are old news, Ty reveals that a shadowhunter is now under arrest for high treason for organizing the raid, which makes Magnus’ heart sink and his mind buzz in distress. It would certainly explain why Isabelle isn’t returning his phone calls, but it also reaffirms that there’s a leak in the Institute. His mind gravitate towards Alec, but only for a moment.

 

Afterwards, a mundane businessman sneaks in a last minute meeting and claims he’ll double the High Warlock’s hourly rate if he makes it worthwhile. Twenty minutes in, Magnus fights the urge to just storm out of their business dinner, due to the mundane’s racist comments to the staff about how they need to speak better English.

That fucking _babun keji_.

 

His last meeting with a warlock, who calls himself the Curator, involves examining a Japanese relic from the Muromachi period. It’s a little out of his field of expertise, but he’s willing to make an exception for a price.

“I ran into Dante when I arrived in town yesterday. When I told him I was coming to see you, he couldn’t stop raving about you and how you helped the kid. Real sweet.” The visitor reaches over and snatches the relic from his grasp.

“I thought I might be able to take it with me to research remotely. My lair has the tools necessary to make a complete analysis of this-,” Magnus offers.

“That won’t be necessary. The notes you’ve provided will do.” The Curator magically stows the artifact out of sight and stands up, straightening his tie. “It’s been great seeing you, Magnus.”

The High Warlock quirks an eyebrow, irritated. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

“Oh! Where are my manners?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crisp $20 bill to slip into Magnus’ jacket pocket. “Thanks for the drinks.”

When the other rests a hand on his shoulder, Magnus shoves him off. “This consultation took three times longer than any of our previous sessions.”

“And you’ve been incredibly helpful, as always,” the thief retorts.

Magnus extends his palm. “And how will you be paying?”

“Ah… I had assumed that because you didn’t charge a cent for Dante, you could extend the courtesy?” His faux exasperation brings a heated current to the surface of Magnus’ palm. “In fact, I hear you had a free day at Hotel DuMort.”

The High Warlock’s eyes flash, threatening the other with a flicker of his cat eyes. He really should have seen it coming when he feels the magnetic shift in the room, as the crook brings a palm up to his chest with a smirk creeping on his face.

“I’m sorry, Magnus.”

A kinetic aura pulsates his whole frame and with the sound of a ‘pop’, he's gone. Honestly, Magnus had enough of dealing with people who disappear into thin air. When it comes to immortals, the world is a small place.

There’s hell to pay if he ever sees him again.

 

* * *

 

 

One of the greatest sensations in the world is rubbing his eye sockets, slowly with his knuckles, after reading report after report. He rubs his eyes and sees swirling colors beneath each stroke. Sometimes he reminisces about the days when he would study books for hours, unaware of how deep into a book he was before he remembered to blink. When he would forget to rub his eyes, Izzy would tease him for walking around the Institute cross-eyed, looking dazed and detached.

In front of him are the incident reports Lydia left on his bed, papers scattering all around him. A few pages fall to the floor when he shifts to reach for a pen on the bedside table. He studies the events of that night over and over until words begin to blur together and he passes out on top of the files.

It’s late evening when he bolts awake. Anxiously shuffling around his bed to collect the paperwork, he smooths over the folder and rushes out the door for Lydia’s office.

On the way, he spots a different shadowhunter, Eli, guarding Izzy’s room. Eli gives him an amiable half-wave in acknowledgement. Alec makes a note to visit his sister once he returns the file to Lydia and gets the answers he needs to free her.

He knocks twice, with no response, before entering into her office. Alec places the file on her desk and spins around to leave, but a name catches his eye. The bookshelf by the door holds a collection that he, Jace, and Izzy accumulated through the years. The one that catches his attention is one that Izzy picked out for him, years before becoming acting Head.

Gold, glossy text jumps off the spine against the dark blue leather – BRANWELL. Alec drags his fingers up the spine and pulls the book out. The title reads, _Portals: Inside the Looking Glass_. He remembers thumbing through this book and looking at the pictures, but the content offers very little about how to deal with his ability.

He thinks about the chapter describing multiverses and how parallel timelines work, which used to piss him off. If such a thing exists, there’s an Alec somewhere that’s free from time travel and maybe free from this Institute, with a family that thinks of him as a son and not as a strategy.

But what he doesn’t remember is seeing Magnus Bane’s name or contribution to the portal.

Alec actively scans every other page for his name and doesn’t find him until he’s two-thirds into the book. He almost misses it, but there he is in the footnote. It explains Magnus Bane’s ties to the London Institute, but nothing more about his involvement in the inception of the portal.

“Alec?” Lydia pants, standing by the doorway in her training gear. She takes a swig of water from a bottle.

He slams the book shut, startled. “Hi. Sorry, I was just returning the file.”

“Ah,” she replies, walking over to her desk to organize the paperwork.

The few seconds of silence are filled with Lydia shuffling through papers and tearing a few of them into pieces. Each tear is piercing, which makes Alec itch to get to Izzy sooner. He shuts the door, which catches her attention.

“Lydia, can we talk?”

She takes a deep breath. “Is this where you tell me the engagement's off?”

“What? No!” he replies defensively.

“Why wouldn't you?” Lydia retorts, muttering more to herself rather than to him.

Was she giving him an out? Is Izzy’s arrest a significant catalyst to break off the engagement? If anything, that would make their family appear even more guilty if he distances himself from Lydia, the current Head of the Institute.

However, if Izzy is tried and found guilty, what would even be the point in saving his family if she’s not a part of that? His head begins to spin with all the what-if’s and none of it is going to help Izzy.

“Can we just talk off the record?” Alec looks directly at the security camera before looking back at her.

“Head of Institute hat off?”

“Yeah.” He sighs in relief when she remotely turns the camera off and sits in the armchair beside him, rather than from behind the desk.

“Listen,” Alec begins. “I need to come clean about what happened at the City of Bones.”

“Isabelle was there, wasn't she?”

“Yeah, with Jace and Clary. The reports claim that some vampires and werewolves were there and I can confirm that. They thought they were stopping a war with the Downworld-”

“Well, they’re not wrong,” she jumps in. “But, I had orders-”

“-and I understand that better than anyone.” Alec leans towards her, pleading. “Lydia, I can't let Izzy be exiled for this.”

“In the eyes of the Clave, she's guilty. I mean, how do you propose we get around that?”

With Jace and Clary on the run, Izzy is taking the fall. The punishment is unfathomable, but the evidence scrapes the bare minimum to persecute his sister, rather than admit they’re wrong about Meliorn. He’s been wrong about Meliorn all along. His stance put Izzy under arrest, letting the Clave decide for him.

Alec blames himself for realizing this too late and is willing to offer his last thread of hope to free his sister.  

“I may have something that the Clave wants,” Alec offers. “I can give them the Mortal Cup.”

 

 

Lydia speed walks to keep up with Alec’s long strides down the corridors. They weave through Ops, waving people off as they make their way to the safe.

“Alec? I know now’s not a good time to bring this up,” Lydia starts as they climb up the stairs to the training room, “but I thought you should know that I found my dress.”

“That’s great.” He gives a half-hearted smile.

“Have you ordered a tux yet?”

“No,” Alec admits. “I promise I’ll look into everything after I free my sister. Okay?”

When he sees the marker on the floor, he bends down as he reaches for his stele. Three rehearsed flicks with his wrists and his stele activates the contraption door to open. The shelves rise from the floor, two tiers worth of family heirlooms and what should have been the Mortal Cup. With the necklace missing too, Alec’s blood begins to boil. He clenches his jaw and eyes the punching bag across the room.

If it was possible, he could breathe fire.

 

 

“Keep it short,” Eli advices.

Alec struts into the room, arms folded across his chest. Once again, he finds Izzy across the room by the stained glass windows, no longer illuminated by daylight. She shows no signs of weariness or complacency when she turns to him.

“Jace stole the Cup,” Alec starts.

With one sharp inhale, her resolve cracks when she tears away from his gaze.

“Izzy, did you know about this?” Alec tries to recapture her attention, but she refuses to look at him. “My God, did you help him? The Cup was our best shot for your release and you let Jace-”

“Jace is doing what he thinks is right,” Izzy snaps, her eyes finally meeting his.

“What's right?” he raises his voice. “You both went behind my back, stole the necklace and the Cup, helped Meliorn escape, and HE gets the Cup? Meanwhile, YOU take the blame? Izzy, this isn’t a slap on the wrist and a suspension. You’re charged with high treason. We have to get him back here with the Cup. It’s the only way we get you out of here.”

Izzy presses her lips into a hard line, her eyebrows knitted together. “They've taken Meliorn back to the Seelie realm. You can't track him there.”

She’s right. He’s already tried calling him, tracking him, and speeding through traffic cams for any signs of Jace, Clary, and Meliorn. Nothing. Without the Cup, his desperation is growing manic by the minute. “Not by any normal means.”

All the blood drains from her face. “No, absolutely not.”

 

 

Whenever they mention parabatai tracking, Jace would wince reflexively. It’s a sore subject that ought to be a cautionary tale for any young shadowhunter-in-training.

Alec only remembers travelling to a neighborhood across town and following a woman who was being followed by a Circle member. Next thing he remembers is waking up in the infirmary at the Institute weeks later, with Jace passed out on the bed next to him.

Izzy remembers being away on a different mission and receiving a text from Jace saying Alec had vanished. Per usual, they thought nothing of it until days turned into a week and still no sign of Alec. As they discovered the many failed attempts to track a time traveler, Jace decided to track him with their parabatai bond.

With Hodge and Izzy by his side, the two watched Jace scream in agony during the initial contact. Hodge warned her that this was normal for parabatai tracking, but Jace’s eyes rolled back and began to seize, his body thrashing to the ground. Jace claimed he felt Alec, but didn’t get through to him.

The next day, Izzy will never forget the haunting thud she heard when Alec returned unconscious. She was left with two unresponsive brothers and she made them vow to never try anything that desperate ever again.

 

 

Izzy takes a step closer, stern. “You cannot track Jace through your parabatai bond. Think about what you're doing. This will weaken your bond or break it. I can’t lose you two again.”

“Jace already weakened it,” Alec retorts. “How can I trust him after what he’s done to you?

“Don't say that. Please, Alec.”

 

* * *

 

 

When Magnus portals back to Catarina’s apartment, he doesn’t feel her presence. Instead, he’s hit with a familiar scent of musk and stale blood. He spots Raphael’s silhouette in the armchair from down the hall before he enters the bedroom.

“I must say, Magnus, I’ve been sitting with him for an hour and I’m still not impressed.” Raphael makes no effort to turn around.

Magnus rolls his eyes. “Where is Catarina?”

“Grocery. Where were you?”

“In the city. Met with Ty, too. Actually, funny story,” he begins as he removes his blazer. “He told me about what happened at the City of Bones the other night and how he got into a bickering match with a few vampires. I asked him if you were involved-”

“God, no. Pinche lobos-” _Fucking wolves._

“Cuida tu lenguaje,” _Watch your mouth_ , Magnus warns.

“I had nothing to do with that.”

“But, you’re leader of the clan, right?”

Raphael clenches his jaw and diverts his gaze. How long has it been since they last spoke? Raphael recalls Simon, dead in the Institute, and Magnus working on his preliminary findings on the Forsaken. So much happens in the course of a few days and now, he’s leader of the New York clan.

Magnus moves across the room to stand on the other side of the bed to face Raphael. “Why did I have to hear it from Ty and not from you? After all I’ve done-”

“You’ve done enough,” the vampire hisses. “Now that you’re back, I should head back to DuMort. Simon should-”

“Simon’s a newborn and you’ve already dragged him into a war with the shadowhunters?”

“First off, you weren’t there. You were too busy taking care of this useless pendejo. You know, he’s the one who delivered Meliorn to the City of Bones, right?”

“I’m sure he was following orders,” Magnus replies blindly.

“Díos, why are you defending him? Little archer boy and his friends were willing to subjugate Meliorn to the Silent Brothers. Even his sister sided with us.”

“And now she’ll be punished for it,” Magnus snaps.

Raphael shuts his eyes and takes a deep, rigid breath. They hear the front door close from across the apartment. After a few moments of shuffling, Catarina calls out to them. “Boys?”

Raphael shoots up from the chair and faces the doorway. “I should go.”

“Raphael…”

“Magnus?” her voice resonates in the hallway. “Oh, hi! Listen I’m making the chicken and- Raf, are you leaving?”

“Duty calls,” he replies smoothly as he inches past her through the doorframe.

“Wait,” Magnus pleads. “Please stay for one drink to celebrate.”

Raphael makes it through the hallway before turning back. He stands just before the threshold, as Catarina walks over to Alec to begin checking his vitals.

“That reminds me. Magnus, you’re temporarily banned from Hotel DuMort.” The vampire straightens his jacket and smoothly tucks his hand into his pockets, leaning against the doorframe.

“What?!” Magnus gasps.

Catarina whips her head around. “What for?”

“If this about that insolent vampire Eli,-”

“Elton!” Raphael fumes.

Through the years, Magnus has always admired Raphael’s calm demeanor, especially in moments of stress. He’s the level-headed leader that the clan needs and now that he’s the new Head, he couldn’t be prouder. When Raphael has his outbursts, it is never taken lightly. When he’s frustrated about something, the earth shakes. If he raises his voice in wrath, the sky falls.

“If Camille was still in charge, I’d let it slide. Elton has a tendency to get a rise out of people, I get that. But, Magnus, you crossed a line. There were witnesses that told me you hung him upside down like a bat and affronted my clan when they couldn’t help you find Camille.

“They look to my leadership now. And what do I see when I walk into a room? They flinch. Some don’t even look me in the eye. I can’t help them if they feel threatened or scared. I have to figure out what kind of leader I am and I have to prove it to them every day. For now, I can’t do that with you in the picture.”

Magnus swallows all the regret and apologies down his throat. He blinks away the mist in his eyes and gives Raphael a small nod.

“I’m sorry,” Raphael resolves.

“Me too,” he croaks. “I’m proud of you.”

Catarina approaches the vampire. “Raphael, please stay.” When he shakes his head, she pulls him into a hug and rubs his back. When she releases him from her embrace, he’s gone in an instant.

Magnus notices her nostrils flaring from her profile. He opens his mouth to explain himself, but she brings a hand up to shush him.

In her most level voice, she tells him, “Magnus, I need to finish up here. Go put the groceries away and chop some garlic. And if possible, please don’t piss off anyone else while I’m in here.”

“Cat-”

“Three cloves. Now, shoo.”

 

* * *

 

 

If he had known that he traveled to the Seelie realm before, he could have saved himself so much pain and strain from his parabatai rune. After all, the instant his parabatai rune linked to Jace’s location, the smell and the textures of the forest all came flooding back to him.

He and Lydia were racing against time, running through the woods in the dark. Alec wondered at what point did his younger self appear? He won’t be around for long and Alec slowed down a bit to listen closely for any sudden movements, in case Lydia gets startled.

Instead of hearing himself in the distance, crunching leaves and hoisting himself up to hide, Alec sees a faint light in the far reaches of the woods. He doesn’t smell smoke, which means it isn’t a campfire. He picks up speed again and Lydia is quick to catch up to him. The closer he gets to the light, the more recognizable the moving silhouettes appear. They’re getting close.

“This way!” he bellows into the night. And when he thinks he makes out Jace, the light disintegrates and they’re suddenly running blind once again.

“I don’t see them!” Lydia calls out to him.

“Jace! Jace!” They slow down when he’s sure they were approaching the trees that were once doors. He reaches out to feel for them, but he feels nothing but air. “No… No.”

“What was that?” Lydia asks in between winded breaths.

“I don't know. But if they're in there, they're not coming out.” He does a lap around the trees for any clues to an access point, but it’s no use.

When he feels his breathing normalize, he notices his parabatai rune growing faint under his skin. “Dammit,” he curses.

“Alec, we need to go. If the Seelies find us, we’re going to wish we were punished by the Clave.”

As they walk through the forest into the bleak night air, Alec glances over to where he once stood, nude and panicked by the events of this night. That’s one of the many curses of his ability, appearing in places he’s meant to be in and not doing anything to help in their present.

And now, that past Alec has returned to his present to spend the night at Magnus’ apartment. He could almost taste the whisky and pizza on the tip of his tongue.

 

 

When he travels, Alec is accustomed to the dull feeling in his parabatai rune. As he drifts away from the present, it feels like white noise and molasses, all at once. But, this feels different. When he’s in the present, Alec revels in the rune’s warm, throbbing buzz when he’s with Jace. It’s what grounds him to the present. It’s how he distinguishes his surroundings. Without it, he’s lost in time.

When he finds Izzy, he finds her asleep on the couch. He tries to leave, but she stirs awake.

“Alec?” she grumbles. “What happened? Are you and Jace okay?”

He lowers himself down and sits on the floor, next to her. “You were right. Our parabatai bond, it's just... so weak. He's like a ghost.”

“Alec, what did you do?” Her voice is now clear, at a whisper.

“Lydia and I thought we could stop the trial if we gave the Cup to the Clave.”

Izy props herself upright, staggered. “Lydia helped you?”

“It doesn't matter,” he sighs. “We have no choice but to go through with the trial.”

Izzy sits upright and scoots down, extending a hand out to Alec. He takes her hand and pulls himself up to join her on the couch. “It's okay, big brother. I know you tried.”

He plants himself right next to Izzy and she immediately rests her head on his shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” Alec whispers.

She wraps an arm around his broad shoulders and hums to herself. They sit in comfortable silence, soaking up all the time in the world to just be together for however long they have.

“Can I ask you something?” Izzy lifts her head to look up. “Through all the times you’ve been to the future, did you ever… you know, meet me?”

“Do you remember the first time I travelled to you?” Alec looks back at her.

“When you were ten?”

“Mmhm. And you were 18.”

Her eyes brighten. “You got your first rune, so we celebrated.”

“You got me ice cream.”

“You vanished before you finished.” They both laugh at the memory. The disappointment on their parents’ faces when he reappeared with the toothiest grin, melted ice cream caked around his lips.

He wants to tell her yes. He wants the same reassurance they had when they met with older Alecs. He wants to show her that she’s happy and well, even if he only knows her fate a week from now.

The moments flip through his head like a book, thumbing through the pages for any words or pictures. Back and forth, flipping through the pages, but he sees nothing in his future that has Izzy. Not even a footnote.

He sinks into her embrace. He can’t lose her. After everything she’s given up, all the crap that she takes with stride, and the millions of ways she’s dealt with his ability, while being a shadowhunter and a forensic pathologist, this can’t be her reward. Jace may be his parabatai, but she’s his rock.

To hell with future Alec. If she’s not a part of his future, he doesn’t want it.

 

“We have to get you out of here.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Magnus, would you quit moaning like that? I have neighbors.”

“This is better than sex.” He takes one last satisfying bite. “Seriously, no lover compares.”

“I don’t know if I should be flattered or feel sorry for you,” Catarina quips.

“God, I’ve missed this. Why don’t we do this more often?”

“Well… The last time I made this for you, I thought it almost triggered a memory.”

He doesn’t remember having any slip ups, especially tied to her recipe. He has always thought anything associated with Alexander is directly entwined with him. To have something inherently Catarina be tied to Alexander is quite something.

“What makes you say that?” Magnus inquires.

“After a few bites, you said it reminded you of yellow shutters.”

“Your first house?

Catarina nods. “I made it for Alec when he and I first met.”

The memory comes to him slower than he wants to admit. “Was I even there?”

“Later on, I think? I just remember him getting so wasted, going on and on about his husband-”

Magnus chokes into his wine glass. “Say that again.”

“He got drunk?”

“No, about a husband.”

“Yeah, I remember you lecturing me to keep that night to myself if I ever see him again. Honestly, you don’t remember?”

She watches Magnus fold into himself as he waves their silverware away by magic. His gaze is distant, lost in memory of something he’s forgotten. When the table is cleared, his hands are free to fiddle with his rings as he sits deep in thought.

“I’m going to go check on him one last time,” Catarina says to a blank Magnus.

He doesn’t say a word when he leaves his seat to follow her, his awareness only reaching to an extent. He feels her in his presence, but his mind is elsewhere. He vaguely remembers what happened that night in Catarina’s old house. He can feel the vibe in spurts of moments, but he can’t get through to them. Even with his memories back, he can’t remember everything. And certainly, he’d remember if Alexander brought up anything about a husband.

 

“Magnus, are you here?”

The High Warlock blinks rapidly, refocusing on his surroundings. “Apologies,” he replies as he sits back into the chair beside Alexander.

She sits on the opposite side, on the edge of the bed. “Where did you go?”

He looks over at the unconscious shadowhunter, far removed from his present. Once again, Alec travels to Catarina when she needs him the most and saves her from the Circle member. This is the life that he knows to be true, one where Alexander is married to a man and not a woman.

“Alec’s engaged,” Magnus responds, tossing his hands up in the air.

Catarina starts to clap, smiling wide with her eyebrows high. “Really? That’s am-”

“To Lydia Branwell,” he cuts in, heavy like a butcher knife.

With her hands together, her shoulders slump and her eyes dart to the side. “Branwell?”

“Lydia.”

“That’s… that’s good news right?”

“Of course not!”

“… Whoa,” she says as she stands up. “What’s going on?”

“He can’t marry her. You said it yourself, he has a husband.”

“But this is Alec. He so… righteous and stalwart. If he’s engaged, it’s because he wants to.”

Magnus shakes his head. “No, he’s engaged because it’s convenient. It’s advantageous.”

“How do you know that?”

“He… he told me in person, just before you called me about him,” he points to Alexander.

She crosses her arms as she registers what’s happening inside Magnus’ mind. “So, you spend the entire day at the Institute, help his siblings commit treason, and when he tells you that he’s engaged, you decide to sulk on that chair and chew out clients? And that whole thing with Raphael?”

“I was out of line.”

“And what happened that day?”

His pupils roll to the back of his head. “Camille.”

“I’ve never seen you this worked up since Camille,” she confesses.

Magnus sits up in his chair, pointing up and pursing his lips. “You’re not-”

“Oh, I am.”

“Please,” he scoffs.

“Alright, fine.” Catarina gestures to the entirety of Alexander. “If you remove alllll the Alecs we’ve met in the past-”

“Look who’s talking-”

“Magnus, listen. If you focus on just present Alec, without all the history between you, do you feel anything for him?”

“I… It’s not that simple,” he admits, his voice soft and faint. “I just got him back and-”

“But that’s the thing, isn’t it? You didn’t get him back.”

“See? That’s the point. I know _he’s_ new to me. But, I also know that despite the history between us, there is still something fundamentally familiar when I’m with him. Each time I’ve been with him, I’m terrified I might slip up because he’s Alexander. I’m new, too! I don’t know what the hell _I’m_ doing when I’m around him. He won’t let me heal him? Fine. Travel to and from my apartment? That’s fine, too. We can talk about his travels over whisky and pizza because _we’ve_ already done that. And now, he goes off and proposes to Lydia Branwell? That’s… he can just…”

All the while, Catarina leans against the wall in her master bedroom and admires Magnus’ outburst with newfound amusement. She tries to hide her smile with her fist, but he catches her in the act.

“What now?”

She suppresses a giggle. “Look down, you lovesick idiot.”

And to his disbelief,  Alexander has vanished back to his present from right under his nose. Gone.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, as new as I am to writing, this is the first time something of mine has a chapter reaching into the double digits! Admittedly, I've never written over 50K of anything in my life. I do intend to see this story through to the end, whenever that is. I love these kids too much to let this AU go.
> 
> Once again, thank you all ♥


	11. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"And in the middle of my chaos, there is you."_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> -Anonymous

 

 

( _ten years ago_ )

 

 

 

“The shadowhunter is worth it, isn’t he? You must really love him enough to do this to yourself.”

Catarina severely underestimated the magnitude of Magnus’ bond with Alexander. Their friendship was forged through centuries of adventures and conversations, a level of love that, even in the shadow world, was uniquely their own. From the moment she submerged herself into Magnus’ consciousness, she wasn’t prepared for how significantly their lives intertwined.

“Amor verus numquam moritur,” Magnus replied with a flicker of vigor in his eyes.

And he was not wrong. Whether he was aware of it or not, Alexander was a part of him and Magnus carried him wherever he went.

After an hour of suppressing his memories, Catarina feared that there was no end in sight. Just when she thought she had filtered through every detail, emotion, and word linked to Alexander, she would find a new memory. Magnus cared deeply for Alexander and she felt everything, but their tethered bond just might cost her her life.

Her hands started to tremble, magic sputtering out. Catarina needed to take a break, but if she stopped, she worried that the memories might slip through her fingertips. Her throat closed up and tears escaped from the corners of her eyes. The instant she thought about succumbing to exhaustion, a hand reached for her and pulled her out of the haze.

And just like that, it felt like a breath of fresh air swept through her entire body. It felt like caffeine, hooked up to an IV, and it was coursing through her bloodstream. It felt like nirvana and she couldn’t help the satisfied grin growing on her face.

Through her concentration, she peeped one eye open to see who she needed to thank. One eye turned into both eyes shot wide open, as Catarina blinked away the tears in disbelief. Were the memories messing with her imagination or was Alexander really here? She squeezed his hand with immense force and the gesture made the time traveler wince in her grasp.

He was real and he was right there.

“Alejandro, I don’t know if I should kiss you or slap you right now,” Catarina quipped through hot tears.

Alexander gave a breathless chuckle. “I could say the same for Magnus.”

The noise she made was mix between a gasp and a cackle. “You know what’s going on right now?”

“Yes! Now, concentrate and take what you need. I don’t know how much time I have.”

It wasn’t the first time Alexander offered his strength during his visits, but it had been a while since Catarina took from his supply. She had forgotten how unpredictable his energy was. It was as though she was given the wrong lightbulb and the wattage made the lights flicker and dim. And other times it had the opposite effect, where the wattage was strong enough to blow out. She needed to finish up with Magnus soon, afraid that the strong presence of the time traveler would fade away, along with her hope of seeing an end in sight.

Twenty minutes later, she sealed up Magnus’ memories and surfaced out of his pool of consciousness. When Catarina’s magic receded back into her palms, her knees gave out instantly. Alexander reached out and caught her, gently scooping her thin frame into his arms.

In her weariness, Catarina felt like she was still in Magnus’ head. Unsure of where her emotions stopped and where Magnus’ began, the presence of Alexander overwhelmed her. And as soon as she felt the couch cushions underneath her, she couldn’t find the strength to let go of his hand.

“Don’t go,” she breathed, her voice faint.

“I’m just going to check on Magnus, okay?” Alexander patted her hand before letting go.

As he walked away, she fought away the fatigue while she watched the shadowhunter fold Magnus’ hand in his own and bring it to his lips. Her eyes began to droop but Catarina blinked rapidly to stay awake. She must fight her way through the exhaustion until Alexander disappeared.

“Alec,” she summoned.

He rushed back and crouched down beside her. “Hey, you need to rest.”

“Magnus, he… he really loves you.”

“I know,” Alec comforted her.

“I mean, I _saw_ … and, and _felt_ -”

“Centuries.”

Catarina reached down for Alexander’s hand and brought his wrist up to her eye level. No marriage rune yet.

Alexander let out a short, spirited laugh. “I was actually getting ready for a wedding before I got here.”

She could tell by the goofy grin on his face and the distant fondness in his eyes that it was no ordinary wedding. And when he took one glance at Magnus pensively, she didn’t have to ask whose wedding it was.

“Wazit worth it?” Catarina’s words began to slur. “This, the… what we did?”

His gaze lingered on Magnus’ before he looked back at her. She thought she saw tears, but her eyes began to droop again and she allowed her breathing to slow.

“Yeah,” she heard him croak, thick with emotion. “It was all worth it.”

Catarina sighed, closing her eyes in contentment. “Good.” She brought his arm into her chest and tucked his hand underneath her chin. “Good.”

 

* * *

 

 

( _present day_ )

 

 

Magnus convinced himself it was for the best to protect Catarina under his wards for one night, but he also knew that Catarina wanted to stay over to look after him.

It has been a while since they had their last sleepover and he forgot how easily she could fall asleep. After everything they’ve been through in the last few days, it makes sense for him to feel exhausted. His body feels worn, but even after a few generous glasses of wine, he can’t get his mind to shut off.

It’s all her fault for bringing out all these feelings about Alexander into the light. Why now? The memories are back and Magnus just wants to reconnect with his best friend. That’s all.

He didn’t need all these residual feelings to surface – if “residual” was even the correct term for what this was. He blamed the other Magnus, the Magnus that existed the last ten years, the person that was oblivious to the existence of Alexander until the night they met. Yeah, screw him. If that Magnus hadn’t felt that instant attraction to the shadowhunter, he wouldn’t be feeling all this… stuff.

However, Catarina reminded him, over and over again, that she only suppressed his memories.

And in those ten years with a part of himself locked away, it was inevitable that those parts of him would resurface. It’s possible that his… attraction to Alec was largely due to their preexisting bond.

If that’s the case, then what if… what if he felt something for Alexander long before the present?

For over a century, Magnus refused to open his heart to anyone. Every damn time he came close to sharing his life with someone, he’d shut himself off and distance himself from feeling anything for anyone. It’s a vicious cycle. Etta was the closest thing to having something significant within the last century, but in the end, they couldn’t bring themselves to make it work. She put up a wall between them and he didn’t have it in him to fight it.

It wasn’t because of Alexander, but the result of what happened after Camille. He abused himself by attempting to remove his memories of Camille, by himself. He only wanted to remove a few of the bad ones, but the stream of consciousness opened a floodgate of memories he wanted gone. One by one, the simple act turned violent and he traumatized himself into unconsciousness.

The nightmare continued when he woke up to Catarina and Ragnor, devastated by his actions. And soon after, Alexander was the final blow.

He vowed to never fall in love that deeply ever again.

“Magnus,” Catarina grumbles, “you’re thinking too much.”

His body goes stiff underneath the covers. “Is it that obvious?”

“What’s on your mind?”

He huffs, turning towards her silhouette. “That day with my memories…”

“Mhm?”

Unsure of how to convey his thoughts, Magnus lets the silence linger.

“Oh god,” she gasps.

“What?”

Catarina swiftly sits upright. “You’re not suggesting I-” she snaps.

“No!” Magnus takes in a sharp breath at her realization and reaches out for her. “I would never-”

She reaches over her head for a pillow. “Don’t- do that- to me!” she taunts with each mischievous whack to the High Warlock. “ _That day with my memories_ ,” she impersonates his voice, dripping with sarcasm. “Pinche pendejo, who starts with that?”

“I’m sorry,” he replies sincerely, careful not to chuckle. “I didn’t know what to say without worrying you-”

“Too late for that.” Catarina sets a hand over her chest. “Just tell me what’s bothering you so we can both get some rest. I have work in the afternoon.”

“What?!”

“I can take care of myself, mister. Now, what about that day?”

Magnus clears his throat and sits up right to face her. In his bedroom, the large window carries a faint city glow, which gives them a sense of their surroundings. He can’t see her features, but he knows where her face should be.

“I’m not sure how to put this, but…” he begins, “after being in my head, how much do you remember?”

“Of that day or do you mean-”

“Alexander.”

“Oh, um… I don’t remember details like I used to. It’s hard to describe,” she responds.

“Do you remember the emotions?”

“Gawd, yes.” Catarina runs a hand through her hair, flabbergasted. “All the confusion, joy, resentment-”

“I didn’t mean-”

“Grief. There was a time I couldn’t bring myself to even look at you because of that alone.”

Every warlock has their own definition of grief and their own way of dealing with it. For Magnus and Catarina, they believe that immortals who share the same ideals regarding grief are compatible, which is vital in surviving in this world, shadow world or not.

And their belief is that grief is love.

Grief is love unresolved. Grieving is hoarding the memories and feelings with no release. It’s all the unanswered questions he needed to know. Grief isn’t empty or muffled, it’s bursting and loud until he implodes. It’s love on top of love. Love with interest, but goes unspent. Over one hundred years of closing people off can do that to a person.

Catarina, too. She still thinks about the life she had with Hector until he passed away, due to old age. Since then, she dedicated her life to healing in the mundane world, as a nurse. She concealed herself deep into mundane life and tried to stay away from any shadow world business. It’s hard when the High Warlock of Brooklyn has her on speed dial.

When he asked her to tamper with his memories, she didn’t anticipate the emotional toll that came with Alexander. And, yes, the grief that she didn’t want to feel since she lost Hector.

“I’m so sorry about that,” Magnus admits.

“Stop apologizing, just…” Catarina shakes her head, reaching out to hold his hand. “It’s fine.”

He senses the gesture and finds her in the dark, comforting her.

“So, yeah,” she reassures. “I remember. Why?”

“I need a second opinion about… how I feel about Alexander.”

“Like…”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

He sighs, second guessing himself. “Actually, I don’t know-”

“Are we talking about the same thing here? Strong, romantic feelings-”

“I don’t knoowww.” Magnus dramatically falls back onto the bed. “Did you feel anything remotely amorous when you were in my head?”

She bites her lip, in thought. “There was one moment of this… pang. I remember seeing Alec’s face literally inches from yours and there was something about it that felt… intimate? When did that happen?”

“November 2nd, 1882.”

“That’s… oddly specific.”

“It was the last time I saw Alexander before, you know.”

“What happened?”

Magnus feels the mattress shift as she lays down beside him. “Remember when you and Ragnor told him about what… _happened_ after Camille? There were things he said that just… lingered in my head until he appeared again in 1882 and things began to click.”

“Which was what?”

“He travelled to me because he loved me.”

“Of course, he loves you. He’s your- _oh_.”

“Yeah,” he breathes.

“And then what?”

“And then I told him I didn’t love him. No, it was that I _shouldn’t_ love him like that.” Magnus groans in embarrassment when she begins to gasp. He rolls his eyes in the dark. “How senseless.”

“Why would you say that to him?”

“I was angry!”

“Okay, okay.” Catarina bites her lip, fighting off a grin. “So, how did all that turn into… face?”

“I can’t say. One moment, we were arguing and the next thing I remember was his forehead resting against mine. And then he was gone.”

“Back to his present,” she chimes.

 _Present._ Magnus recalls something he said to the time traveler that night, which makes him whine in anguish. Stupid, stupid, stupid warlock.

She scoots towards him. “What's wrong?”

He covers his face with his hands at the memory. “I said, and I quote, ‘Is it easier to love you when we meet in your present?’ right to his face.”

Catarina grabs his arm, the bed shakes as she giggles into her pillow. He humors himself and joins her, with a few bubbling in his chest.

“Are you done?” Magnus quips.

“Yes,” she says, taking one deep breath to calm herself down. “So…”

“So.”

“Is it easier now?” she hints.

It’s easier to say no. It’s easier to cement the walls he built when circumstances justify it. Alexander is at the mercy of time travel, willing to put family and his duties to the Clave first, and is now engaged to Lydia Branwell. So, Magnus stares at the ceiling, pushing away the thought for another day. “I’m in the mood for Seoul.”

And Catarina tucks herself into his side and rests her head on his shoulder, an unspoken truce. She will not push him further on the subject, even when his evasiveness speaks volumes.

 

* * *

 

 

What was Izzy even thinking? To refuse any legal aid from Idris and insist on Magnus Bane to represent her? Without the Clave on their side, how could they afford him? And furthermore, how could any of this be valid in the eyes of the law?

Alec isn’t sure why Inquisitor Herondale wants to start the trial so suddenly, but time is running out and they’re out of options. If Magnus can’t accept him as a client, then is there any hope if he asks as a friend? Are they even friends? The High Warlock admits he's his best friend and someday, that might be true for the shadowhunter. But, time isn’t on their side.

Alec spends the entire commute to the penthouse going through all the countless ways to ask for help. At the very least, he needs the fresh air, away from all the guards from Idris and the Inquisitor’s cold stare. It seems that whenever he distances himself away from the Institute, he can think more clearly.

He stands outside of Magnus’ building, his breathing goes rigid and he can feel his heart leaping out of his chest.

He can do this. He can swallow… whatever’s between them and hope that Magnus will accept his offer.

“Will it take long?” Magnus walks the shadowhunter in and points over to the balcony. Three figures huddle outside, their backs towards them, in deep discussion. “I have an appointment to get to and they’re not the type to be kept waiting.”

“Reschedule,” Alec reacts with more heat than he intended to reply.

Magnus blinks, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

It’s apparent that he should have called ahead first, but his feet carried him here before he had a chance to think. Now, he’s overstepping and inadvertently pissing off the High Warlock of Brooklyn. Great job, Alec.

“Please,” Alec says, softer. “It’s about my sister.”

Magnus draws in a slow breath, raising his chin. He directs his attention to the balcony, as he exhales. “Give me five minutes. Make yourself at home,” the High Warlock motions over his shoulder before he disappears through the balcony doors.

The first time he was in this penthouse, Alec traveled back to his childhood and left Jace vulnerable to the memory demon. A few days later, he was standing in this room before he traveled to the Seelie realm in the now present. With the last visit to the near future still fresh on his mind, this place feels more foreign to him – darker, colder, and unusually spacious.

He looks down, his eyes roam across the floor for any movement. Does Magnus have the kitten yet? He looks over to a pathway that has yet to exist and is struck with a wretched realization: the desk doesn’t exist yet. Alec spins around at the sound of double doors magically closing behind the High Warlock, interrupting his train of thought.

“What can I do for you, Alec?” Magnus makes his way to the drinking cart.

He said _Alec_ , not Alexander. That… hurts.

“I assume you heard about what happened at the City of Bones?” Alec starts.

“Are you referring to the fact that your adorable fiancée has Isabelle on trial for treason?”

It’s one thing to have his name butchered to get a shot at him, but Alec suspects that Magnus is just trying to get a rise out of him. If that’s the case, he’s wasting his time. Magnus is their last hope and he’s clearly not taking this seriously. “My sister wants you to be her defense attorney. I said I would ask, but I'm sorry I even bothered coming to see you. I know, a downworlder can't defend a shadowhunter in co-”

“-but a shadowhunter accused of a crime can choose any advocate,” Magnus clarifies, straightening his posture as he sits in his armchair, as though it was a throne.

“That can't mean a downworlder.” Alec immediately regrets thinking out loud.

Magnus reflexively clenches his jaw at the poor choice of words. “Back in what they call the Time of Angels, the Clave were so rigid and prejudiced that they didn't dream of a shadowhunter asking a downworlder for help. In fact, they didn't even bother to exclude us.

“So,” the High Warlock jumps off the chair, “since, as you all say ‘ _the Law is the Law_ ,’ there's no stopping me from slipping through this gaping loophole… for the right price.”

Alec couldn’t help the small grin growing on his face after watching Magnus impersonate an elderly Clave member. It’s almost worth the trip to see it in person, now that this man might just accept his offer.

“Name it,” Alec replies.

“You.” Magnus holds his gaze, his brows forming a hard line. For a moment, the seriousness of his response gives Alec pause before he continues with more spite. “In fact, I’ll do you pro bono.”

For a friend, he’s really making this more frustrating that it should be. “Anything else?”

If it’s even possible, Alec believes that the High Warlock could almost smell the desperation as he moves closer. “What else is important to you? What else tells me that your sister means enough for you to make a real sacrifice? Oh! I know… your bow and quiver.”

By the angel, this man really knows him. Magnus doesn’t need magic to cut to the core of the things he cherishes the most. Alec tries to hide his hesitation, but something about his features makes Magnus soften.

“Done,” Alec consents.

Whatever glittery concoction is in his martini glass, Magnus drowns the contents in one gulp. For a second, Alec thinks he sees smugness but his eyes look panicked before looking away.

“Alright, shadowhunter. When does her trial begin?”

Alec reaches for his phone for the time. “One hour,” he responds.

The High Warlock purses his lips, peeved. “This Inquisitor has had a whole day to build a case and I only have an hour to build a defense?”

The anxiety is too much for Alec to handle, making him incapable of forming a coherent reply. He’s on foreign ground, treading through mud, and unprepared to fight. There is no strategy for him beyond asking Magnus for help, so Alec turns away from the other and begins to walk away.

“Where are you going?” Magnus calls out to him.

He stops and turns back. “I need to get back to my sister.”

“Alec, don’t waste your time on the trip. Just… give me a few minutes and we can portal to the Institute.”

Magnus retreats back to his bedroom while Alec has nothing to do but pace back and forth. Portals. This is his chance to ask Magnus about Henry Branwell’s book. If it’s true that he helped invent the Portal, why not give him the credit he deserves? There’s something about Magnus that spurs curiosity out of the shadowhunter and it’s frustrating how hard it is to retain a one-track mind when he’s in this penthouse.

Especially when the High Warlock walks back into the room in a three-piece suit, tailored perfectly to all five-foot eleven inches of heaven with legs. Magnus Bane can part seas without having to lift a finger with that look.

Aware of his effect on the shadowhunter, Magnus straightens his tie and swaggers towards him. Alec hears a snap and the distinct hums of the portal behind him, but his eyes refuse to leave Magnus.

 

“Shall we?”

 

* * *

 

 

So, this is what it feels like to be part of Alexander’s present. It’s not the radiance and peace that he hoped it would be. The finish line is not the victory he imagined. The present is fighting to ensure a future that might not even be real anymore. That happiness, that certainty that future Alec exudes, might all be an act if he fails Isabelle now.

Magnus is barely hanging onto that thread of assurance that future Alec is his truth – that a part of his happiness is having Isabelle by his side.

The only thing standing in their way is Inquisitor Herondale.

In a case that has everything to do with the Clave’s ludicrous ordeals, the only form of defense that Magnus can offer is the very thing they hate the most: his downworlder status. The High Warlock of Brooklyn must make them see how their twisted ways forced one of their own to save a Seelie Knight.

That, and their pitiable play for the Mortal Cup. How dare they bargain the life of Isabelle Lightwood for the Cup.

“Make your case, warlock.”

Only 43 seconds into the trial and Magnus grips onto the thread tighter than ever.

 

 

It’s outstanding how different the Lightwood children are from their parents.

No, it’s a miracle.

Just when he thinks he’s heard it all from Alexander, Isabelle continues to surprise him with every fight in her. Whether it’s in the lab or in trial, she has the bearings of being a true Head one day, but she has far too much good inside her to be a part of this circus.

“You know what's insane? Thinking we have the right to treat a downworlder’s life as worthless,” Isabelle argues.

“Isabelle,” Lydia cautions, “remember that everything you say here will be considered in the verdict.”

“Good. Consider this.”

And when she rises, Isabelle stands taller than Alec.

“Valentine didn't come out of nowhere. We use our angel blood to justify everything we do, just like him. Like him, we forget that we are not only angels; we are also part mundane. It’s in our nature to be afraid and fear makes us cruel. And we turn our fear to Downworlders. And just as he did, we will end up turning on each other.”

It’s one thing to know what he’s able to bring to the table regarding this trial, but it isn’t until this moment that Magnus sees why Isabelle chose him as her defense attorney. Any other representative from Idris would be shutting her down and waving her testimony off as a form of unruly behavior in court, but the fact that Lydia allows Isabelle to continue with her statement means there might still be hope of turning this case in their favor.

“You think we're doing that to you?” the Inquisitor demands.

“You have to answer that for yourself, Madam Inquisitor.”

 

* * *

 

 

The trial takes a brief recess before the final verdict. With Isabelle’s cross-examination out of the way, Magnus has only 30 minutes to strategize a new defense. They pace around the study that Lydia prepared for them to congregate during the trial, without cameras, to speak their mind and think properly. Without having to bring in any of the downworlders or the guard unit, there isn’t any other way to turn this case over.

The two stand in front of the fireplace in deep discussion when they hear a commotion from the other side of the door. Alec storms in, with Raj bellowing after him about following orders before slamming the door.

“Are you trying to get yourself exiled?” Alec barks.

She rolls her eyes, clearly irritated. “We don’t have time for this.”

“So, none of this,” he gestures vaguely towards the door, “matters to you. Us, the Institute, our family.”

“Isabelle is acting in her best interest for the case,” Magnus defends.

“Our parents are under enough fire as it is, Magnus. And Jace is missing with the Cup,” Alec reasons, looking back at his sister. “I can’t lose you, too!”

“Don’t you get it? This isn’t about you.” Izzy turns around, running her hands through her hair to compose herself. “I'd rather be stripped of my runes and sent into exile than be part of this world. What kind of people sacrifice justice for law?”

Alec backs himself into a wall and leans, folding his arms across his chest. “That's very noble, but I can’t protect you when you're running for your life from a pack of demons with no Shadowhunter powers or weapons.”

“Jocelyn did,” she countered.

“She also had Dorothy and the Cup,” Magnus adds.

The older Lightwood gives him a pointed look before addressing his sister. “All I’m saying is, you haven't exactly kept a low profile. If you’re banished from the shadow world, you’ll be on your own.”

“That’s where you are wrong, Alexander.” Magnus steps forward. “She’ll have me.”

The High Warlock watches Alec part his lips, awestruck by his admission. How many ways does he have to prove to Alec that he’s doing everything in his power to protect Isabelle?

This is the present. This is about her future. And future Alec.

Magnus knows the look he’s giving him, one that he’s seen hundreds of times before. Alexander would drink him in, emotions pouring into his mouth, but he would never vocalize them. He can see the wheels turn in his head, thoughts that the shadowhunter filtered. He chooses his words carefully, leaving Magnus to fill in the gaps.

Alec wants to say something, but Magnus already knows. It’s written all over his face.

Raj unseals the door and peeks his head in. “Time's up, Alec. Trial resumes in five minutes.”

The High Warlock straightens his tie and smooths over the jacket as he tears away from Alexander’s gaze, flustered. Isabelle moves past him in a blur and buries herself into her brother’s arms. They let the hug speak for themselves before they part and Alec disappears into the hallways and the door shuts in front of her.

After a few moments of utter silence, Magnus calls to her in a hushed tone. “Isabelle?”

“Mmhm?” She doesn’t realize how long she stood, staring at the door until now. She blinks owlishly, regaining back some awareness as she spins around.

“Why did you choose me?”

“Because I didn’t want any of them to represent me. They can’t defend me if they’re a part of the problem. And I can’t go through all of this without holding them accountable.” She walks over to him and takes both of his hands into hers. “You were the first person that popped into my head. Not because you’re a downworlder, but because you’re Magnus Bane.”

He squeezes her hands in response, moved by her sentiment. “Clever as the devil and twice as pretty. And believe me, I’d know.”

A wary smile surfaced on her lips. No matter what happens from this point forward, she’s grateful to have Magnus in her life. If she wasn’t sure before, she’s certain now that Alec feels the same.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s unnerving what goes through his mind when he isn’t actively doing something. No demons, no traveling. Alec is rarely this static, sitting still in this small room, feeling helpless as the trial unfolds in an achingly measured pace. He doesn’t enjoy how his mind wanders, bouncing between his distress for Izzy, his reservations about Lydia, his ire in Jace, and his pull towards Magnus.

His parabatai rune twitches faintly underneath his skin. Jace. He needs to be out there, hunting Jace down to bring him and the Cup home. He needs to do something instead of just sitting here.

But, he needs to be here for Izzy. Someone has to. No one in their family, except their parents, has a clue about what is happening in this room. She sacrifices a lot for this family and this is her reward? Break noses and accept the consequences, but this is too far.

He should have asked Magnus to let him take the stand. He’ll lie, tell them that he helped with Meliorn’s escape the entire time, and join his sister in exile. They’ll be stripped of their runes and banished, but at least they’ll have each other.

And Magnus.

 _She’ll have me_ , he said. He can still feel the weight of Magnus’ words – a vow, a promise. For a moment, Alec pictures a reality where Magnus agrees to let him take the stand, where the Inquisitor orders that he and Izzy are guilty, and they suffer the invigorating process before being thrown out of the shadow world. Unwanted by the shadow world and too far removed from the mundane.

They’ll exist in this indefinite bubble, but at least they’ll be away from all of this. No political marriage, no high expectations to live up, no missions, none of that. And if Jace ever wakes up from his pointless crusade, he’ll realize that Max is all he has left.

However, this is his life. He watches Magnus and Izzy enter the room and the little universe he created in his mind disappears into a cloud of nothingness.

No matter what happens from this point forward, Magnus is here for them and that’s all the reassurance he needs to get through the rest of the trial.

The High Warlock rises fluidly from his seat. “I'd like to call Lydia Branwell to the stand.”

The room goes stiff, suffocatingly still. The only thing Alec can hear is the sound of his own heartbeat.

Even Inquisitor Herondale is staggered. “I don't see the relevance.”

“Well, that makes two of us. I don't see the relevance of this whole trial.” Magnus says, with the corner of his lip upturned before looking over to his right. “Ms Branwell, if you'll take the stand?”

With no objections from the Inquisitor, Lydia makes her way up. When she finally looks out at everyone in the room from the other side of the trial, it’s as though she transformed into a different person. She’s not the poised, hard-shelled envoy she presents herself on a daily basis. Lydia appears timid and apprehensive, her hands restraining from fidgeting on her lap.

Magnus takes one stride towards her, adjusting his jacket. “I just have one question. Why are you prosecuting this case?”

“Answer the question, Counselor,” the Inquisitor commands.

Lydia hesitates before she replies, “Because… the Law is hard, but it is the Law.”

Alec can feel the agitation radiating off of Magnus and Izzy. And without a doubt, between the two, Magnus is most likely the one rolling his eyes right now. Magnus opens his mouth to debate the weak accusation, but Lydia interrupts the thought.

“But that doesn't make it right,” she confesses. “We're trying someone for being compassionate and empathic. She saved a life that was being sacrificed for nothing.”

“That will be enough, Branwell.” The Inquisitor’s voice is placid, but the tone implies a line has been crossed.

Lydia looks up at the woman in charge, meek but determined to endure. “No, it isn't. I'm looking out at the faces here. A brother and sister who disagree on everything except for how much they love one another and how loyal they are to each other.”

Magnus turns around and looks back, the two Lightwoods stealing a glance full of affection and sympathy. Lydia has only scratched the surface on the lengths these two would go for each other.

“A man who took this case pretending to want payment in rare objects, but who really believes that injustice toward his friends is intolerable.”

Lydia is clearly oblivious to his true intentions of taking this case, while admitting what parts of Magnus she chooses to see. She a member of the Clave, but she no longer fully represents their ideals. And quite frankly, he’s enamored by her revelation.

“Loyalty, decency, compassion, love,” she continues, each word sharper and more resolute than the last. “These are the concepts that we should consider to decide guilt or innocence in a case like this.”

“Those are not the concepts of the Law,” the Inquisitor snaps, her voice no longer level. “Now, enough of this nonsense.”

Lydia scoffs. “I agree; this case is nonsense.” She smooths over her skirt before she stands, shoulders back and hands down by her sides. This is the Lydia, the Head of the Institute they all came to know.

“I withdraw the charges.”

Applause erupts through the room, mixed emotions fill the air. Alec can hardly hear himself think, let alone process what just happened. He can still hear the words but it doesn’t hit him until Izzy finds him and wraps herself around him. She’s free. His sister is safe and here to stay, thanks to Magnus.

Suddenly, shredded paper falls magically around him like snow. He hears Hodge celebrating behind him and Lydia smiling before him, but through the fallen pieces, the only person he sees is Magnus.

He still doesn’t understand how this man, the High Warlock, an immortal being, manages to slip into his life and makes him feel as though he’s been here all along. Magnus looks, talks, and treats him as someone he’s known all his life and Alec would give anything to return the favor. How strange is it to meet someone in the wrong order?

It’s in this moment, watching Magnus hug his sister after everything they’ve been through, he realizes that he will spend the rest of his life getting to know him. Not because it’s set in stone, but because anyone who’s willing to fight and protect those he loves the most deserves to be in his life.

“Order!” the Inquisitor thunders. “Silence!”

Before his mind drifts into a territory he’s not ready to explore, the sound of hammering brings Alec out of those thoughts.

The Inquisitor aggressively sets the gavel down. “If you think refusing to prosecute exculpates the defendant, you are wrong. By order of the Clave, I find the defendant guilty. The defense is correct: The Clave wants the Mortal Cup. If it is returned within 24 hours, the verdict will be overruled.

“If not, Isabelle Lightwood will be stripped of her runes and exiled from the society of the Shadowhunters forever.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this series last year to cope with the hiatus and now there's two more episodes left of 2a? Clearly, time isn't real.
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comments ;)


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"I’m fighting myself. I know I am. One minute I want to remember. The next minute I want to live in the land of forgetting. One minute I want to feel. The next minute I never want to feel ever again."_
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> \- Benjamin Alire Sáenz, _Last Night I Sang to the Monster_

 

 

 

It’s extraordinary how, even as a time traveler, Alec can feel like a stranger to himself. Standing at the top floor balcony of the Institute, the shadowhunter takes in the evening breeze and reevaluates his current situation.

In the midst of war in the shadow world, his parents became members of the Circle and the repercussions of their actions lead them to where they are today. Jace is the son of Robert’s parabatai, who was also a Circle member. It’s funny how their relationship began with a parabatai bond and now it’s close to nonexistent. His parabatai rune, his tether to the present, feels nothing more than a frail fizz, a reminder that the Cup is just out of his reach. Time is running out and Jace is jeopardizing Izzy’s life. This is his punishment, his form of torture.

Whatever happened to the days when time travel was the only eventful thing in their lives? It felt safe, reliable. Even though Alec would be gone for various lengths of time, he still felt close to his siblings. They ran the Institute in their parents’ absence, but, eventually, ‘they’ became Alec versus them. Unlike missions, Jace and Izzy didn’t have to report about the visits with each other. They had their secrets and he had his.

He knew that Izzy chose not to become an Iron Sister because of him. His secret is that a small part of him was relieved she didn’t. Alec also knows that she often daydreamed about what her life would’ve been like if she had. It must eat at her how different her life would be to have parents that admire her instead of dismiss her. He and Jace would certainly have killed each other by now if Izzy hadn’t been around to pull them apart. After all those years of selfishly needing her by his side, Alec wishes he had let her go and live out her dream.

Better there than here, where she’s mere hours away from banishment.

And now he’s engaged. Even more so, Madam Inquisitor doesn’t fully approve of their union. He’s supposed to wait until after the trial to even think about the wedding, but he believed that if he could change the Inquisitor’s mind about him, then it might have sway in her decision about Izzy. To save his family, he will do anything.

Instead of taking it as a sign to call it off, Alec opened his stupid mouth and declared that the wedding would take place over the weekend. In three days, with or without his sister.

If there’s an Alec out there who is in the mood to punch him in the face, now would be a great time to visit.

Looking out at the streets of Brooklyn, Alec loses himself in the distant glimmer of the city. He can’t face Izzy now, not after promising her that he would only return to her when he finds Jace and the Cup. Hours and hours of looking at traffic cams and demon activity, the wild goose chase lead them to Simon’s van ditched at Hotel DuMort. Luke’s car is acting as a decoy, with one of his pack members driving around Harlem in circles.

“I thought you left,” a voice beckons from behind.

Much like how an iratze can be utilized as a pain-killer, the presence of Magnus provides the instant calm for his internal conflict. Alec doesn’t realize how tense he’s been holding himself until he feels his muscles loosen as Magnus joins him.

“Likewise,” Alec responds, intending to sound lighthearted but it comes out with a bite. The Inquisitor may have dismissed Magnus, but the High Warlock is nothing if not obstinate and he is relentlessly gratified by that.

He notices when Magnus rests his palms on the balcony ledge that the man ditched his jacket before coming outside, breathing in with a small hiss as he inhales the night air. “My job isn’t done until my client is free and the Cup is in capable hands. Besides, it would be unprofessional to leave without payment.”

“Oh. We, I mean-” Alec clears his throat, flustered. “I’m sorry, we can-”

“Easy,” Magnus tells him. When they finally turn to look at each other, Alec notices the teasing in Magnus' lips and playfulness in his eyes. The glow of the city lights softens his features, heightening the look of fondness with a twinkle in his eye. “I’m needed here. Now, what’s your excuse?”

“I…” Alec’s itching to play along and reply with the same lightness. Instead, he feels stuck.

His mind goes straight to his parabatai rune and he’s desperate not to ruin the moment by bringing up Jace. Alec drums his fingers against the cold concrete as he thinks of something witty to say, but nothing comes to mind.

Magnus is looking at him with no sign of impatience or urgency, which is refreshing compared to others in this Institute. In this place, it can feel like there isn’t enough time in the world, but with Magnus, somehow time feels… full. Not endless, but very much present. Never wasted.

So, Alec doesn’t think of something clever. He wants to tell him something without killing the mood. What then? Should he tell Magnus that he’s afraid to travel, afraid to lose her while he’s away? The last time he left the Institute, he traveled to the future and Izzy was arrested in his absence. What if he leaves again and he loses her for good? How can he explain all this without scaring Magnus away?

“I can’t,” he begins, “I just- I can’t…”

“You can’t leave her,” Magnus surmises.

He gets it. Even as his hand grasps at dead air, trying to feel the words to say, Magnus is there to catch them.

“Yeah,” he breathes.

For the next few moments, they let the silence linger. The air of playfulness is long gone and now they are left to their own thoughts, mutually desperate to get away from the chaos of the Institute, yet determined to stay. Magnus might understand why he wants to stay, but Alec isn’t entirely sure why the High Warlock is still here. Alec tries to gather up the courage to confront him, but Magnus is first to break the silence.

“In all my years of knowing you, I never believed you were the type to fear your own ability. You always exuded… ownership.” Magnus side-eyes Alec as the shadowhunter looks into the distance. “You’d always be sick of it, but you were never afraid of it.”

Ownership? Alec huffs through his nose, almost a scoff. “Sounds like future Alec.”

He catches Magnus’ attention and for a moment, Alec senses that the other might challenge him on that assumption. He knows all too well the feeling of someone who knows more than they let on.

“I suppose,” Magnus tells him, swallowing the argument down for another day. Alec notices that tick with Magnus’ adam’s apple, his eyebrows furrowed, and he contemplates whether or not it’s his new favorite thing.

Magnus catches him ogling and turns his attention back to the city.

“Until recently, you always had the tracking rune over your parabatai rune. Assuming you haven’t found Jace yet, you already tried tracking him?” Magnus feels Alec flinch beside him. “When?”

“Yesterday.”

“Are you oka-”

“Magnus, I’m fine,” he interrupts.

“Did you find him?” Magnus asks.

The memory of the forest takes him back to that night in Magnus’ suite, sharing drinks and pizza during a night much like this. Alec had just returned from the first travel to the forest, unbeknownst to him what was really happening.

“I saw him. Magnus, I was there before and I could’ve gotten to him sooner, but I was too late. Jace disappeared behind a door in the Seelie realm and we haven’t been able to track him since.”

The High Warlock parts his lip, incredulous. “And when you were there, what exactly did you see?”

Alec closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, shaking his head. “I don’t know. Blinding light and… colors everywhere. Jace was there one second and then it went dark.”

“Jace walked into another reality,” Magnus says, impressed. “Did you see Clary?”

“No.”

“At this point, they could be integrated into that other world and be gone for good.”

“Or they could have hidden the Cup in there before coming back,” Alec offers.

Magnus turns around and leans against the balcony wall, bringing an arm across his chest and tucking it underneath his elbow, deep in thought. “No physical objects from this world can carry through to other realities. And you can’t be certain that they found a way back-”

“They did.”

“Alexander,-”

“No, Jace is out there. It’s faint, but I can feel him.”

It’s Magnus’ turn to shake his head. “If he did manage to come back, I would love to find out how.”

“Not if I kill him first,” Alec retorts. And it doesn’t feel like a real smile yet, but the feeling of warmth is a surprise.

Magnus brings his head down, hiding the mirth bubbling in his chest. He can’t let himself fall into the ease of the conversation. _Stay present_ , he thinks to himself. This is Alexander, but this isn’t _his_ Alexander. This is young Alec, present Alec. Distinguishing the two simplifies his feelings towards the shadowhunter.

“Empty threats. Cute,” Magnus quips. Alec fights back a smile and turns his head away. Magnus adds, “I assure you that Jace’s true motives in taking the Cup were never out of spite. He would never intentionally hurt you or your family like this.”

Alec looks back and purses his lips, narrowing his eyes at the other. “And how would you know about his true motives?”

The High Warlock averts his attention away from Alec and attempts to explain himself, but nothing spills from his lips. He curses himself for slipping up again.

“Is that why you took this case? Because you helped them?” Alec demands, crossing his arms.

“Of course not.”

“You had the chance to take the Cup for yourself, but you didn’t.”

“I never wanted it,” Magnus objects. “I took this case to do what I had to do to protect my people. What they did to Meliorn was wrong and Isabelle should not be punished for it. And-”

“And now, because of you, Izzy will be exiled,” Alec snaps. “This is just- I should have just testified and taken the blame.”

“I wouldn’t have allowed it. You both would be exiled from the shadow world.”

“But at least, out there,” he gestures to the cityscape, “I can protect her.”

“That’s not your future and we both know that,” Magnus argues.

“No. Instead, I’m stuck here while my sister’s future lies in ruins.”

“Jace will come through.” Suddenly a step closer, there’s intensity in Magnus’ gaze that Alec can’t steal away from. “And if not… if not, the mundane world isn’t as terrible as you paint them to be.”

Alec thinks back to every visit he’s made throughout New York City, through all of time. The gawkers, the loud, the violent ones that make most trips miserable. The ones that call the cops because a nude man was intruding on public property. The homophobic comments about strangers people make when they think no one’s listening. And the rare times he’s been threatened by a knife or a gun because he was at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Yeah, sometimes the mundane world is as terrible as it seems.

“What are you trying to say?” Alec presses.

Magnus takes a step back and faces the city once again. “In all the instances you have traveled, there has never been a single, decent human being out there to help you?”

“Yes.” Despite the indifferent tone in his voice, Alec fails to suppress his smirk.

The High Warlock rolls his eyes, a smiling growing on his lips. “Shadowhunters. You vow to protect the mundanes but fail to recognize that you are also human. Like you, they have their own personal wars and hardships. While most remain oblivious about our world, mundanes are content with knowing that life makes no sense at all. Like you, they wake up each day and try to live their lives the best they can. Angel blood, demon blood, we’re all trying to find ways to be… happy.”

Happy. What would make him happy would be Jace returning with the Cup. Happiness is Jace never betraying him in the first place. Clary stops needling her way into their lives and Simon would still be a mundane. His happiness is Izzy free from all of this. His happiness is to live his life without time travel.

What would make him happy doesn’t exist. Because he’s a shadowhunter and time travel is a part of who he is – all the violent, arduous aspects of it. He can’t be happy. Not yet, anyway. That’s for future Alec to decide.

Jace and Clary are still out there. Soon, the Cup will find its way to either the Clave or Valentine. There are millions of mundanes in front of him and they have no clue that their lives are in the hands of two shadowhunters.

Well, one and a half.

 

* * *

 

 

The flames beat and crackle, as warm light dances off of the golden walls of the study. Izzy stares at the fireplace, entranced by the yellow and orange embers, while fumbling her cell phone from one hand to another. There isn’t much else she can do. She sits and waits anxiously as time passes by. Even time is acting strange – lucid and hazy, all at once. She wants to be sure about the outcome, but she has never experienced doubt of this magnitude. Her life is on the line and Izzy isn’t sure she’s fully processed it yet.

Even after speaking with her father on the phone, his tone conveyed no urgency or concern on the matter. Her parents didn’t even make an effort to come to her trial in person. Cowards. The call could not have lasted more than three minutes and they made their priorities clear as day.

It’s the worst way to find out about Alec’s wedding day.

Izzy scoffs at the thought of planning a wedding in a matter of days. On the one hand, it’s overwhelming how much needs to be done. On the other, she can’t ignore the knot in her gut that she might not even be present for her own brother’s wedding day. It’s an endless cycle of shoving the thoughts away and having them crawl back in.

And so, she stands by the fireplace and forces her attention to the dancing flames.

Is this what Alec feels like when he travels? Stuck and unsure of when time fixes itself again? Helpless? The only difference is she has a deadline, a fixed point in time of her own. Alec talked a lot about fixed points when they used to discuss his visits. There are events that unfold that are out of his control, no matter how hard he tries to deviate from that fate. There’s no such thing as free will when he travels.

That’s what she feels like. Trapped, with the clock ticking.

Just as she feels her whole body succumb to the fiery trance, the creak of the door opening pulls her out. Her resolve wanes when Izzy recognizes the sound of heels approaching from behind. Lydia is the last person she wants to talk to, so Izzy refuses to face her now.

“I, uh, I brought you a glass of water,” Lydia begins. After a moment of stubborn silence, she continues as she places the glass down on a table. “I wanted to check in on you and see how you were doing.”

Izzy’s brows form a hard line, dubious. Where was all this before the trial? Lydia has no right to feel guilty now, when it’s inconvenient. Izzy pretends to ignore her, but she folds her arms across her chest absentmindedly.

Lydia takes it as a sign that she’s listening. “I’m sorry about Madam Inquisitor. That verdict was cruel and I wish there was a way that I could help you-”

“Help me?” Izzy finally turns around and finds Lydia standing in the middle of the room, without her blazer. “You had the last couple of days to drop the charges, but instead you helped my brother track Jace with his parabatai rune and chased after the Cup.”

“I had my orders,” Lydia tells her.

“So, why the sudden change of heart? Is it to get in good graces with my family? Because you’re marrying into this and you realized your actions would tear us apart?”

“Izzy, please.” Lydia holds up her palm to allow her to explain. “This isn’t about the wedding.”

“Of course not. And if all goes according to plan, you will get everything you want by this weekend. I’ll be exiled, you’ll marry Alec, and the Institute will be all yours.”

The envoy clears her throat, uneasy. “News travels fast.”

“Why are you in such a rush to get married, Lydia? Haven’t you done enough damage already?”

“It was Alec’s idea, Izzy.”

The Lightwood opens her mouth to argue, but remembers it was Alec that initiated the proposal. Izzy prays Jace follows through and brings back the Cup, so she can smack her brother across the face with it.

Lydia takes a step forward, bringing her hands together behind her back. “You forget that the Clave already reassigned control of the Institute to me. If being Head is all I ever wanted, I would have said no to marrying Alec. You think Alec’s the only one making sacrifices? I am making a commitment to help your brother. I want your family to keep the Institute. Even if Alec can’t be around 100% of the time because of… _you know_ , I can be there to help.”

Izzy rolls her eyes. “You have no idea what Alec has sacrificed for our family. We were managing just fine before you showed up. You want to help me? You want to make amends for accusing me of high treason? Convince him to call off the wedding.”

A piercing chime rings from Lydia’s pocket, startling the envoy. She digs for her phone and when she reads the screen, her expression changes from tense to stifled disbelief. “I have to take this,” she says, not once looking up at Izzy.

And after she calls after Eli to open the door, Lydia rushes out of the room without another word.

 

When the last strand of light hair is out of view, Izzy sees Magnus standing in the hall, his eyes following Lydia in amusement.

“What was all that about?” Magnus asks, as he steps into the study. “Did Lydia find the Cup?”

She sighs. “No. She came to apologize.”

His lips form an impressed grin, as an eyebrow raises up slightly. “That’s noble of her.”

Izzy walks over and brings the glass of water to her lips. Once she takes a large sip, she smacks her lips and shrugs. “How’s Alec doing?”

“As charming and overzealous as ever,” he replies, thinly sarcastic. “By the way, you were right about the balcony. It’s quite peaceful, although quite brisk at the moment.”

Izzy takes a slow breath, in relief. “Good, he’s still here. I thought he jumped already.”

Magnus’ mouth hangs open, utterly perplexed. When she realizes how she phrased it, her eyes shoot wide open and apologies for the turn of phrase.

“Sometimes when he gets frustrated, he runs away from the Institute by leaping off the rooftop or balcony. It’s just a thing he does on occasion that drives Jace and me completely insane.”

A low chuckle comes out of the High Warlock. “Young Alec is just full of surprises.”

“If you mean present Alec, then you don’t know half of the drama.”

“Like what?”

“Like when I had to pick him up in New Jersey because he ran off in the middle of the night and he passed out on a boat. Or when he fought with Jace in the middle of a mission and traveled. When he came back, he was sobbing and clutching onto Jace. Visually, it was emotional whiplash.”

The ruling finally catches up to her and the misplaced stress she’s been holding in comes pouring out of her. Each word comes out faster than the last and she wonders when was the last time she took a breath.

“Oh! And the time he returned from a visit, hands covered in blood, punching at thin air. You could see the wrath and pain in his eyes, still fixated on where he’d been. That kind of rage haunts you, you know? And and and there was one time he was gone for almost two weeks. Two weeks, Magnus! And when he finally came back, he was unconscious-”

“Isabelle,” Magnus cuts in.

“- and he didn’t wake up until the next day. Never in my life had he ever done that before.”

“Isabelle.” He attempts to catch her attention, but Izzy is lost in her rambling.

“Has that ever happened to you?” She looks up at him. “Has he come to you like that – like, completely unconscious?”

He approaches her and grabs her by the shoulders. “Izzy!” When he feels her body sink into the embrace, he loosens his grip and brings her into his arms to comfort her.

“Sorry,” she croaks into his chest.

“It’s okay to worry about him. You still have time, I know it.”

Izzy tightens her grip around him and takes a deep, cathartic breath before untangling from his arms.

“Look, Isabelle, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. You brought up finding Alexander unconscious after a visit. How long ago was that?”

“I’d say… about a year ago?” she draws out her responds.

“For him, it was a year ago. For me,” he pauses for effect, “it was a few days ago.”

“… No way.” Izzy stands before him, starry-eyed. She doesn’t realize until this moment how deprived she’s been from swapping stories with Jace or with anyone. And now she has this wonderful person in her life that she can count on to share similar experiences with Alec without judgement. “Tell me everything.”

“Technically, my friend Catarina was the one who found him. On that night at the City of Bones, Alexander was following a Circle member, who was stalking Catarina. Long story short, he saved her life and in the process, he suffered a concussion.”

“You healed him,” she assumes.

He shakes his head. “Catarina did. She’s a nurse.”

“How long did he stay with her?”

“Barely a day. I was even there when he disappeared back to the present.”

Izzy spreads her arms wide, welcoming him in for another hug. “Tell her thank you for me. It’s been a long time since someone told me about a visit.”

“You are welcome, Isabelle. Catarina knows him as well as I do, even if he hasn’t met her yet.”

“Jace and I do the best we can for Alec.” She looks up at Magnus, heartbroken, before taking a step back. “But if I’m gone, I’m glad he has you.” Izzy walks past him, away from the fireplace, and makes her way to the table.

So much of her life has been dedicated to Alec. Her earliest memories revolve around hearing about Alec’s sudden disappearances and believing her parents were hiding other brothers in their family. She was eight years old when she fully understood her big brother’s ability when Alec returned from a visit and the runes she once drew with a sharpie appeared on his face and forearm. She remembered that day vividly because he couldn’t get the sharpie off of his face and had to go to his first rune ceremony, sharpie-faced. Dad’s face went pale when he heard the Silent Brother chuckle.

This is the only life she’s known. Sure, she used to daydream about what their lives would be like without time travel and what Alec would be like as a typical shadowhunter. In a multiverse, of course a version of Alec like that exists. Would that Alec be happier? Would she still be the same Izzy or would she become so much more?

“I’m sorry we lost the case.” Magnus stands beside her, fiddling with his rings and twisting them, one after another.

She looks over at him, chin jutted out. “A lo hecho, pecho.”

The charged moment is interrupted by a rush of air coming through an open door. Izzy turns to see Alec, her Alec, present Alec, waltz in with an expression she hasn’t seen in a long time – elation. But, why? She quickly glances over at Magnus, who is in absolute awe of the man he’s known his entire life. She’s seen that look before, when they were summoning the memory demon. Does he make that face every time Alec walks into the room?

“Jace and Clary are back.” Alec shoves his hands into his pockets, swaying. “And they gave the Cup to Lydia.”

Izzy feels as though the temporal chains around her wrists have shattered into pieces. Despite the hearth of the fireplace fading, she feels the room grow brighter and radiant all around her.

Alec breaks into a wide smile, the kind that she only sees in older Alec. “You're free to go!”

She takes one last look up at Magnus to make sure this was real and he mirrors the same incredulous glow. It’s over. Time fixes itself again and the future is clearer than ever. For now, she remains where she’s meant to be: here, with Alec.

“You were right!” Izzy exclaims, launching herself into her brother’s arms. “They came back! You knew!”

They rock side-to-side in each other’s embrace, engrossed in their own little bubble. She feels Alec’s chest rumble in laughter as he spoke. “Actually, I didn’t. He did.”

 

* * *

 

 

It’s not often that Magnus catches himself in a moment like this.

Beneath all that joy is excruciating pain, somewhere deep in every crevice of his body. Immortals know this feeling too well, when an experience unfolds in front of them and they can’t help the familiar ache that comes prematurely. A premature nostalgia. There’s self-awareness in this happiness – a pain to be felt later on, so his body reacts the only way it knows how.

And Magnus knows what triggered this pain. It’s because he saw him: his Alexander.

Somewhere between when he walked in and when Isabelle embraced him, Alec’s face changed into someone so breathtakingly conversant. It feels like he’s truly meeting his old friend again. His Alexander, the man that knows him better than anyone else. He can see him in the folds of his crow’s feet and the dimples on his face. He can feel it in the warmth of the room from his presence alone. He can hear him in the joyful inflections of his voice. This is Alexander.

One moment he’s here and the next, Alec stands in his place. Present Alec, the abrasive, enigmatic version of the man he saw moments before. Unpredictable and unapologetic. Just when Magnus thinks he knows Alec, the shadowhunter takes him by complete surprise.

It’s not fair to develop feelings for a man that is both here and not here. He’s fallen for someone that has yet to exist and that’s where the pain begins to amplify.

“Well, my work is done here,” Magnus laments, distracting himself by gathering all of his belongings. He curses himself for killing the mood and foregoes putting the jacket back on to confront Alec. “Walk me out, will you? We have some business to settle.”

When he brushes past him, the High Warlock feels Alec’s eyes on him long after he’s left the room. Out in the hall, a sudden draft makes him shiver. He slips the jacket back on in one graceful swoop as he hears footsteps approach him from behind.

Just as they begin their walk, Eli calls after Alec and abandons his post. “Hey! I just heard about your wedding this weekend and wanted to wish you the best,” Eli says with genuine enthusiasm as he extends a hand out.

Alec freezes and takes in a rigid breath before accepting the gesture. “Thanks.”

As Eli spins and walks down the hall and out of sight, every every other thought diminishes and forms into one: The wedding is this weekend. Nephilim weddings take weeks to months to plan and coordinate. Even less so for downworlders.

But this isn’t just a shotgun wedding, like some mundanes do. This is Alec’s wedding.

All this nervous, pent up energy that’s been accumulating all evening is reaching the ceiling. He’s unsure what look he’s giving Alec, but the shadowhunter refuses to look at him. The tall man raises a hand, like he’s prepared to say something, anything about the exchange, but he turns around and picks up the pace.

It takes a moment to register that he should be following Alec, but his thoughts are back in the study. Nevertheless, his feet carry him forward, reflexively tailing the time traveler.

This weekend. Less than three days. More like two, at this point. What time is it? There isn’t much activity in the main atrium, so it must be late.

When they enter the armory, they have the room to themselves. It’s both reassuring and stifling.

“As promised, payment in full.” His voice is rushed and apathetic, averse to offering his bow and quiver.

He’s not going to apologize for his attitude that afternoon, but after everything they’ve been through tonight, the bow and quiver are the most treasured items and just as meaningless. Worthless, yet everything to him. Alec watches him expectantly, motioning the High Warlock to take them from his hands. From the collection of bows that are stowed by the wall, Alec’s not giving away the most lethal or most valued bow. He’s handing Magnus his heart and it’s far beyond what they negotiated.

“Keep them,” he tells Alec, pushing the items away from his reach.

Alec raises an eyebrow, determined to follow through with their deal. “Magnus, I insist.”

“I wouldn’t know what to do with these,” Magnus lies. “You keep them for me.”

“So, that’s it then? After everything you’ve done for Izzy?”

“It was nice doing business with you, Alec.” Magnus turns to leave, swinging his suitcase over from his right to his left.

It would be the first time that Magnus leaves the Institute without payment, but he’s willing to make an exception every now and then. Two weeks ago, he would have taken the bow and so much more from the clutches of the shadowhunters until he’s bled them dry. A part of him still does, but not today.

“Magnus?”

He stops at the opposite end of the room and whips around.

“You said you wanted to know how Jace returned to this world. He said that a portal in that realm had the ability to take you to places telepathically. Even across realms,” Alec explains.

“Executing a portal with telepathic properties is possible,” Magnus muses. “That must mean the warlock who activated it has untapped magical potential, far beyond anyone I know.”

Alec begins to walk towards him. “So, you.”

“Did Jace say that?” The High Warlock feels the pull and gravitates towards Alec.

“Clary did.”

“She met me?”

“Mhm.”

“That would also mean that whoever I collaborated with in the inception of the Portal has the ability to perceive the psyche into the final calculation,” Magnus rambles, bursting with curiosity.

Alec shrugs. “Maybe in that world, Henry Branwell would actually credit you in his book.”

Magnus chortles, his palm over his mouth. “Of course, you read his book.”

“Why aren’t you in it? Ever since Lydia told me you and he invented the Portal, it never made sense.”

“If you haven’t noticed, Alexander,” Magnus enlightens, emphasizing his point by waving his hand around the armory, “I could practically own this Institute and the Clave would still write me off of anything published.”

“Who would actually believe that something bound by magic would be invented by Henry Branwell?” Alec crosses his arms, dubious by something trivial.

Magnus feels the conversation turn into that familiar flow that gets him into trouble. He can’t tell Alec that he travels to him and Henry in the past and how Henry was enamored by the time traveler. So much so, Alexander is mentioned in a draft before he tells Henry that a time traveler cannot be documented in his research. He can’t let that slip, so Magnus thinks of something else to say. Something that needs to be said.

“Alec, I want you to know that I thought Lydia was wonderful in court. Not a lot of Clave representatives would have done what she did. Lydia even went to see Isabelle and apologized. She’s great.”

The shadowhunter is taken aback. “So you get it.”

“No, Alec. I get her. I like her. But you don't have to marry her.”

“Yes, I do, Magnus,” he hisses.

“No, you don’t! Your future isn’t with her. Your happiness isn’t with her.”

“And yet this wedding is fixed!”

Magnus inhales sharply. A floodgate of memories that have yet to unlock from his mind flash before him – events in Magnus’ life that Alec has no control in meddling with. All the moments that Magnus wished Alec had visited and the ones he wished Alec didn’t. Fixed points in time are sacred.

And this wedding is a fixed point in time. Future Alec is a cruel, skilled liar and he hates him for it.

“You’re willing to sacrifice your happiness for a fixed point?” Magnus takes one last step towards Alec, with only the suitcase now in between them. “A wedding isn’t a marriage. You don’t have to do this,” he challenges the shadowhunter.

He feels his future slipping away. Alexander said, time after time, that they know each other in the future. They’re friends. Liar. And maybe his happiness was also an illusion. How could he do this to Isabelle and Jace? And to Catarina and Ragnor? If he puts up a front with every visit, Magnus can’t fathom what else Alexander has been hiding from him.

“You'll be lonely all your life, and so will she. Neither of you deserve it. And I don't either.” He doesn’t bother with protocol and conjures a portal just outside of the armory and storms out of sight.

 

Fuck him.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shadowhunters wins an award on the same week as the anniversary of the greatest kiss in tv history?? Love is real. Now, time to take on 1x12...
> 
> As always, thank you for the kudos and comments ♥


	13. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  “ _And in my head_  
>  _the visions never stop_  
>  _these ribbons wrap me up._  
>  _But when I reach for you,_  
>  _there's just a supercut._ ”
> 
>  
> 
> \- Lorde, _Supercut_  
> 

 

 

( _late 1800s London, Alec is 29_ )

 

 

Years into his relationship with Magnus means that he’s already visited several places more than once. Enough times to pinpoint when and where he is by smell and touch alone.

He can sense South America by the sun-kissed warmth and gentle breeze.

The spices stick to his skin and sink into his pores long after he would return from India.

And on rare occasions, he can sense where he is by a sickening feeling in his gut. The type of gut-wrenching ache when something feels wrong.

That’s London.

 

So far, he’s only been there once and Alec doesn’t know enough outside of that feeling. Magnus told him that his visits to London were adverse and scarce, so maybe that alone bled into the visits. Does knowledge of being somewhere so few times instigate that result or could it be pure coincidence? Nevertheless, Alec knew the moment he felt the cold tile against his cheek that he’s in London.

It’s midday, bleak, with distant chatter within the house. It doesn’t feel like the same house in 1882, but the furnishings are reminiscent of that night. The night Alec was on the Morningstar to rescue Jace, but ended up traveling to past – where Magnus then confronted him about their past and present.

Based on the collection of used canvas lined up against the wall, he knows this is Ragnor’s room. That and Ragnor’s distinctive voice growing louder as footsteps approach the door. The doors swing open and Alec is greeted by a stunning and equally stunned Catarina, followed by the staggering, yet sated High Warlock of London.

The two look at each other in wordless bafflement, which makes Alec’s stomach churn anxiously. He’s not used to feeling unwelcome and it doesn’t help when Catarina approaches him with a forced smile.

“What the hell is going on?” Alec thinks out loud, his voice hoarse.

Catarina shrugs off her dress robe and motions for the time traveler to turn around. “It’s good to see you, Alexander.”

“Is it?”

“I could’ve done without seeing his deflated ass,” Ragnor chimes in.

Alec gives him a pointed look over his shoulder as he slips his arms into the armholes of the dress robe. Once he’s tied the robe closed and tugs the shortened sleeves, he turns around to look at the two worried warlocks. Catarina walks up to him  and places her hands upon his shoulders and looks up with a calm, concerned expression.

“Are you hungry? Can he get you anything to drink?” Catarina offers.

Ragnor scoffs.

She shushes him, pushing Alec towards Ragnor’s bed. “Do you need sleep? We understand if you feel exhausted. If you need to rest, you can-”

“Catarina.” Alec pulls away from her grasp. He can tell when she’s being evasive.

It wasn’t something he picked up in the present, but a pattern he’s noticed in the past whenever something has happened to Magnus. She would look directly into his eyes and lock in her gaze as though those doe eyes would make him bend at her will, paired with her warm and steady voice. As a nurse, those traits could make anyone forget about their worries because they would feel cared for. It would be so easy to fall for it in the present, but this was the past and that feeling in his gut wasn’t going away.

Alec looks between them, now peeved. “Where’s Magnus?”

“ _Where’s Magnus_ ,” Ragnor mocks. “The real question is: where have _you_ been?”

“Ragnor,” she hisses.

“What? We wouldn’t be here if he properly showed up when he was supposed to,” he tells her, gesturing towards Alec.

“What do you mean? Is he okay?” Alec demands, eyeing the doorway. “Where is he?” He shifts to glance down the hall, but she blocks his path.

With her palms raised, she tells him, “I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.”

“Catarina,” Ragnor warns.

“No! We don’t know what will happen if he sees Alexander. He can barely contain himself, let alone-”

“-We don’t know that. If anything, he’s probably the only person that can get through to Magnus. You said-”

“Absolutely not! I’m not risking-”

“Guys!” Alec waves his hands between the two. “Now, one of you better tell me what happened to Magnus right now-”

“Or what?” Ragnor cuts in.

“Or he could disappear, you idiot,” Catarina says, displeased. Nevertheless, she turns to face Alec. “To be frank, we don’t know what really happened to him.”

“I found him on the floor, unconscious,” Ragnor continues. “Soot everywhere… glass shattered. I had thought he drank himself into oblivion, but after summoning Catarina, I was wrong. We believe his feelings for Camille led him to tamper with his memories.”

Alec is at a loss for words. The image of Magnus, lifeless and covered in ash, was… unfathomable.

“We don’t know where she is right now. Not even a whisper of where she could have gone. Whatever happened between them, it wasn’t good and-”

“You think Camille manipulated Magnus into messing with his own memories?” Alec asks him, his voice hitched.

“No,” Catarina replies.

Ragnor stands before Alec and takes a deep breath. “Magnus tried to erase his own memories of her on his own.”

The time traveler is staggered. “That’s not possible.”

Through all the memory demons, countless conversations with Catarina and Raphael, and shouting matches with Magnus about memories, the same lesson was drilled into his head: never do it alone.

“Someone had to have been there. Magnus would never-”

“But he did,” Catarina tells him.

“It doesn’t make sense. How can one person erase their own memories?” Alec counters.

She shakes her head in disbelief. “It’s Magnus… whatever it was, either he doesn’t remember-”

“Or he’s not telling us,” Ragnor finishes.

“Where is he?” Alec demands, moving out of Ragnor’s way. “Let me talk to him.”

She rushes after him, grabbing his arm. “You can’t!”

Alec reels back from the full strength of the petite warlock, but is still itching to search the house. While staring out the door, he addresses the two without looking at them. “You said I’m the only person that might be able to get through to him. I’ll get him to tell me how. He needs to fix his memories.”

“He can’t,” Catarina tells the time traveler. “Most of his memories stayed intact, but others… they’re lost for good.”

“Nope, that- no, he must have some counter curse or, or, or a spell. Something you all haven’t thought of yet that could-” Alec starts pacing in front of them.

“Would you listen to yourself?” Ragnor goads. “Something we haven’t thought of yet? It’s been nine, long years since the last time he saw you, shadowhunter. And it’s been hard. He wouldn’t have done this to himself if you were here in the first place-”

“Enough!” Catarina turns to face the warlock, her chest heaving in vexation. “Blaming Alexander isn’t going to help! Right now, Magnus is like an exposed nerve and if he sees you, Ale-”

The only sounds that follow are the fluid rhythms of Alec’s descent down a flight of stairs.

 

 

 _You’re in London. It’s November 2nd, 1882. I want you to remember that because it’s been almost fifteen years since the last time I saw you_.

 

The grief struck him just as hard now as it did the first time he visited London. Could this be it? Could he be in the middle of this fifteen year wait? Nine fucking years is hard enough, even if it’s nothing to a typical immortal. Alec would never do this to him if he had the power to control it.

Either he disappears and Magnus mourns the gaps in his memories until that fateful night in 1882 or Alec faces him now, only to leave him again for the next fifteen years.

He used to be so certain of his own timeline. Despite what happened in the past and what’s to come, Alec was so sure of his path in life. There was a time when he believed that having a marriage rune in the future meant he was destined to marry Lydia Branwell. Not destined, fixed. The timing and the circumstances felt right. But Magnus Bane showed him that knowledge of the future shouldn’t dictate his life in the present. It’s the opposite – free will should write the future in his own terms, despite what’s fixed in time.

Alec felt the pull as he approached the grand doors to the ballroom of the house.

Magnus told him about a grand ballroom in a house he once owned. The floors were shined in order to have reflections cast across the room, filling the space with cascading light. Although his house was glamoured from the outside in, those five grand windows opened the world to him, with austere air and grit. It was his own way of being a part of that world and apart. Even to this day, Magnus made sure one wall would be dedicated to floor-to-ceiling windows in every version of his lair.

The moment Alec touched the door handle, he felt that drop in his gut again. He looked over his shoulder, expecting to find Catarina and Ragnor shadowing him, but nothing. Nothing but dead air. What if Catarina was right? What if this was a bad idea?

The ornate doors then magically unsealed, a rush of air blowing away any evidence of doubt in him.

He wasn’t sure what he expected to see if he ever found Magnus. After talking with Ragnor and Catarina, was he expecting him to appear… broken? Messy hair with tears-stained garments? Alec knew so little about this version of Magnus and wasn’t sure what to expect. That’s the beauty of these visits, perhaps.

Magnus stood in the middle of the ballroom, engulfed with light that softened his polished frame. His arm was still extended in front of him, his shirt sleeve rolled up. Above all of the vast, empty space that the ballroom encased, his presence filled every crevice of the room. At first glance, Magnus looked collected and composed. If Alec disappeared now, Magnus would have told him everything was fine.

What betrayed Magnus in the next moment was the flicker of his cat eyes. He had a habit of turning his face away, eyes closed, while balling up his hands into fists. When he opened his eyes again, the magical current from his palms could be seen from where Alec stood.

Before the time traveler could say something about it, Magnus finally spoke.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is clear and level until the last word. The small hitch is not lost on them.

Alec takes this as his cue to enter the room. His eyes wander about the room before his gaze lands on Magnus. The light that surround him blinds Alec from the dark circles under the vacant look in his eyes. Magnus’ mouth hangs slightly open, unaware of how his breathing is picking up until Alec stands in front of the still extended hand.

“Do you know who I am?” Alec asks him, careful not to sound anxious.

Magnus’ brows furrow as he slowly lowers his hand and guard down. “Alexander,” he replies matter-of-factly.

“Yeah,” the shadowhunter sighs in relief. He raises a hand towards Magnus reflexively, wanting to feel him, comfort him. To stroke his cheek like he had done hundreds of times before.

But Magnus flinches, pulling away from his reach.

Alec tries not to take that sting too personally. After all, this isn’t the first time he’s seen Magnus hurt, coping with pain with whatever power he had left in him. It’s just that he hates feeling helpless.

“How much have they told you?” Magnus continues to divert his gaze from Alec.

The shadowhunter lets his hand drop to his side. “Catarina said it wasn’t a good idea to see you.”

“And yet, here you are.”

“It’s the least I can do after nine years,” Alec replies.

Magnus smiles to himself, trying to hide the titter rumbling inside before clearing his throat. As he was working to compose himself, a spark emits from his fingertips. The frustration cracks the surface of his face, which catches Alec’s attention.

“Magnus?”

“Don’t,” he warns, hiding the spark climbing up his forearm.

Alec takes a step forward. “Are you alr-”

“Catarina!” Magnus erupts, his voice resonating off the ballroom walls.

The sudden boom stuns the shadowhunter. Before he heard two sets of hurried steps, Alec feels the hairs on his arms stand on its ends. The sensation alone leaves him static.

The two warlocks enter the ballroom instantly, each of them deliberately approaching Magnus with an air of routine and serenity. Catarina takes Magnus’ head in between her hands, flowing with silver magic as it feeds into him. To her left, Ragnor reaches down to take his hand in his and expertly magics a spell, waving his other hand around it. When Magnus opens his eyes, Catarina releases him from her grip as Ragnor summons a drink in his hand. He offers the drink to Magnus, but the warlock declines.

Catarina looks over at Alec, clearly miffed from his escape. “What did you say to him?”

“You two told me he had memory gaps, but you never mentioned this,” Alec refutes, still reeling from watching the three of them together.

“This _is_ because of the memory gaps,” Ragnor reveals.

“For whatever reason, his magic is… retaliating,” Catarina tells him.

“It’s punishing me for violating my own memories,” Magnus admits, breathless due to fatigue. “Some days, it refuses to cooperate. And other days, it refuses to operate.”

Alec looks to his right, at Ragnor. “How deep do the memory gaps go?”

“We still don’t know enough. So far, a few of his spells and counter-spells are gone-”

“I thought I told you to write these things down,” Alec blurts out to Magnus.

Magnus opens his mouth to argue, but Ragnor continues with his account. “- he doesn’t remember living in the Swiss mountains, but he remembers the bloody monkey. He’s having trouble with names, places he’s been to, you name it.”

“It’s probably best that he doesn’t remember why he’s banned from Peru,” Catarina teases.

“Wait, I’m banned?!” Magnus exclaims, appalled.

She lets out a hysterical groan. “We already discussed this!”

“Magnus,” Alec voices, calmly attracting his attention. “Who was the first love of your life?”

“Luisa,” he answers.

“Good. When did you leave the Silent Brothers?”

“17… something.” It sounds more like a question than an answer.

Alec presses his lips together, raising an eyebrow. “Do you know what a Keris is?”

“I…,” Magnus begins, his breath caught in his throat. He blinks rapidly, his forehead furrow in frustration.

Catarina steps in, standing between the two of them. “I think that’s enough.”

“Can you give us a moment?” Alec addresses her, never deviating from Magnus’ gaze. He isn’t sure what tone he gave off, but Ragnor takes Catarina’s hand and leaves them alone without another word.

Alec knew this was a long shot but he had to try. At the beginning of their relationship, Magnus dealt with flashbacks – memories that were good, bad, and everything in between. Catarina helped him navigate through Magnus’ recovery from memory suppression and at times, Alec couldn’t control when a single touch would become a trigger. Sometimes, it was a word or a phrase and other times it was a casual touch. Magnus welcomed it, riding through the wave of memories and explained that someday, Alec would understand why.

“Take my strength,” Alec offers, extending his hand again.

Magnus looks down, hesitant and frightened at the idea. “I can’t.”

“Magnus,” he pleads.

The warlock cautiously examines his own hand before reaching out for Alec. When he’s certain that he isn’t going to combust or crack, Magnus closes his eyes and grabs his hand. The time traveler feels the pulsating current in his bones vibrate with erratic energy as Magnus feeds from his strength. After a few deep, jagged breaths, they fall into a rhythmic breathing pattern, inhaling and exhaling as one. With their left hands still joined, Alec peaks one eye open to find the man gazing back at him. Still breathing together, Alec could somehow feel his throat hitch. As he did before, Alec reaches out with his free hand to caress Magnus’ face and the contact brought the warlock to tears. The shadowhunter drops their joined hands and brings Magnus in and envelops him into his arms.

Alec continues to stroke the back of Magnus’ head, speaking into his hair. “Whatever she did to you is… is just unforgivable. I know it’s not my place to judge and you don’t have to explain, but Magnus… this isn’t good.”

 

* * *

 

 

Magnus wasn’t sure when his life became so… complicated. So broken.

 

The only thing he wanted was for everything to stop. He pushed himself closer and closer to an edge, challenging death, only to return with more loses. His compassion and yearning to help others couldn’t suppress the black hole that was swallowing him inside. He felt and felt until there was nothing left to feel.

There was nowhere left to run until he found himself standing on the ledge of Blackfriar’s Bridge. He craved to feel the brisk air against his cheek. To feel something one last time.

He tried his fucking damnedest to forget about that night, but he wasn’t strong enough to let it go. Every time he closed his eyes, he could see her eyes begging him to climb back down. Her voice rattling his bones, her fingertips brushing again his cheek. The flashbacks continued to haunt him, until the pain of it was too much to bear. Camille gave him something to feel again – hope.

It’s the reason why, even now, he couldn’t let the memory go. But, oh, did he try. He wanted so much of her out of his head, without merit. Without protest. If he removed his own memories, his decisions were his own and no one else. He believed magic was the source of exhaustion in the practice of Memory, but he was wrong. It’s the mental and emotional battle against a memory.

Memories fight back.

Memories have a say whether it wants to stay or die.

Thus, when Magnus was erasing his own memories, he fought to the death.

When he woke up from the traumatic experience, his mind, body, and magic refused to forgive him. Magnus went from feeling nothing to feeling everything. Memories either flashed before his eyes or stared into a void. Everything went so fast and achingly slow.

There was no peace until Alexander shared his strength.

His memories didn’t mend itself together, but it welcomed Alexander. His magic didn’t remit, but it treasured Alexander’s touch. The muscles in his body loosened and the strength was healing him. He didn’t want to admit that he needed Alexander, but his tears betrayed him.

Magnus wanted to tell him everything. All those days spent standing in the ballroom, trying to get his magic under control and assembling himself back together, day after day. He knew that one day, Alexander would return and he would have to explain himself – about Camille and why he did what he did. Why scorch marks decorated the walls. Why he couldn’t remember things about himself and the time traveler.

And evidently, why he couldn’t remember what a Keris was. His mind certainly couldn’t stop shouting at the void where it once was. It was there once and it was vital to who he was… and now that part of him was gone.

 _Magnus, this isn’t good_ , the time traveler said.

Of course, he fucking knew this wasn’t good. The last thing he wanted was for Alexander to worry about him. Or worse, to be disappointed in him. Fucking hell, to disappoint Alexander would be like pulling teeth out of a hellhound. He remembered that, but not the reason why he and Ragnor were banned from… from…

 

He unwraps himself from Alexander and backs away. Magnus rubs his knuckles into his eye sockets, frustrated with another gap in his memory.

“Tell me there’s a way to fix this.” Alexander’s voice sounds… hopeful. Still worried, but too hopeful.

Magnus doesn’t want hopeful. Hope brought him here.

He drops his hands to his sides and looks up at the shadowhunter. Whatever he looked like, shaking his head in defeat, it eats at Alexander. He means well, but this is something he can’t fix.

This is his moment. The speech he’s been rehearsing in his head for the past month, the speech that would explain his relationship with Camille and everything that followed. And all he can do now is hang his head. Why is this so hard? Why is he having trouble talking to the one person he could tell everything to? Why couldn’t this visit be like the decades they spent on balconies, talking their mouths off until the yellow falls and rises again?

“Look around you, Alexander. The floors, the walls, the ceiling.” He points to the fresh char marks on the curtains and tiles. “Do you think you can fix me?”

“I do,” he replies, without missing a beat. “Because you’re my responsibility.”

Magnus scoffs unconsciously. “Oh, Alexander. I wish it were that simple.”

“Why else would I be here?”

That’s the age old question, isn’t it? Once or twice a century, the thought did occur to him. Why was a time traveling shadowhunter visiting him? After all this time, Magnus didn’t imagine the question would ever be posed to him like that, in a way that Magnus would know the answer. That, of course, he would visit because Magnus expected him to fix his problems.

Unsure if it was Alexander’s tone or the question itself, but it upsets Magnus more than it should have.

“You’re here by accident. That’s it. Your responsibility isn’t to fix this,” Magnus gestures to his entire self. “Some of us don’t have the luxury to drop in at any given moment and suddenly care when it’s convenient. You don’t get to choose when to care, Alexander. I have to deal with my life, day by day, while you stubbornly insert yourself into it.

“And I know that you can’t be everywhere. Believe me, there were times I prayed that you would turn up when you didn’t and prayed that you’d leave when you did.”

“Ragnor mentioned that none of this would’ve happened if I had shown up,” Alec interrupts. “What did he mean by that?”

Magnus lets out an exasperated sigh. He’ll kill Ragnor the next time he walks through that door. What Magnus would give to not picture the disheartened look on his dear friend’s face the moment he woke up from the incident. Ragnor truly believed that the damage was done because of Alexander’s absence. Magnus needed to set the record straight, even if a part of him believed that to be true.

“No matter how hard I tried, I… I couldn't see my way out. Then, on one particular stormy night, I got as far as the ledge of Blackfriar’s Bridge. And if Camille,” Magnus inhales a sharp breath. It feels like daggers in his chest, saying her name out loud. “If she hadn’t been there, I wouldn't be here right now. She was the only one who cared enough to stop me.”

“Magnus, I-,” Alec chokes on his breath, bringing a hand to the base of his neck. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t-”

“Don’t.”

“Where were Catarina and Ragnor?”

Magnus cautions, “It’s not their fault.”

“And what about Tessa?”

“She has other people to worry about, Alexander.” Magnus looks out the window, avoiding to look at the shadowhunter. It’s too light outside, where no shadows could cloak the guilt on his face.

He can hear Alexander struggle to find his words. It occurs to him that he hasn’t explained himself properly, wording everything as though he’s blaming Alexander for his absence. That couldn’t be further from the truth. The last thing he wants is a reason for Alexander to blame himself.

“It’s not your fault. I did this to myself.”

“But,” the time traveler argues, walking around Magnus to stand before him. “Would I have made a difference? Instead of-”

“She saved my life. It’s fixed,” Magnus emphasizes the last word. Above all the things that were in his speech, he’s relieved to get that off his chest. The more he thinks about that night, the more confident he is knowing she was meant to be there.

The time traveler lowers his head and closes his eyes, his lips pressed as he nods. “But, this,” he points to the warlock’s temple, “this isn’t how you honor her memory, Magnus.”

“No.” He feels his magic crawl underneath his skin and into his hand. He flexes his hand open before rubbing his thumb against his fingertips.

He wanted the good memories of her to disappear. If he remembered the good, it would be too easy to fall back in love with her. Like an addict, one taste of her and he’s hooked. But the memory gaps proved him wrong. All it did was prove that he loved all of her, even the gory bits he wanted to hate about her. Magnus needed reassurance that he could protect his heart, but instead, he destroyed himself in the process.

“Tell me, Alexander –” Magnus starts, his voice just above a whisper, “– does this get any easier?” He isn’t sure what he is asking of the time traveler. Perhaps he needs to know if there’s more Camille to come. Perhaps he needs to be sure that he could survive this. That he can trust himself again. Perhaps he’s looking for something to hold on to.

And as always, the time traveler takes his time to piece together his words. He’s cute when his face twists into that odd juxtaposition of half-truths. The bleakness of the London skies render Alexander pale in complexion. Like a ghost. Magnus smiles to himself, proud that of all the memories that stayed, he could at least remember the years he believed that Alexander was a ghost. And a godlike creature. _Iskander_ , he called him. His Iskander.

“With time. Maybe your magic might someday forgive you, but it’ll never forget. And you…,” Alexander locks eyes with Magnus, breathing deeply.

Whatever the shadowhunter wants to say next, he’s fighting like hell to get it right.

“Today, it… it might feel like you gave your heart to the wrong person. I know I did once, but you know what? Never apologize for that because one day… by the angel, one day you’re going to give it to the right person.”

Magnus fought back tears, wanting to believe every word he said. After all, history guarantees that this will pass.

It’s just…

He didn’t know who he was anymore. People are like memories – they have a choice whether to stay or leave. And when she did, she took pieces of him with her. Whoever he loves next will love him around the holes in his heart and around the memory gaps. All that was waiting for him… for future Magnus.

“How can you be sure?” Magnus asks, his eyes still lost in thought.

“Because,” Alexander takes a deep, quivering pause, “you’re a big event.” The sound he makes next is somewhere between a hysterical gasp and a sigh of relief… and then nothing.

Magnus blinks rapidly, bringing himself back into focus. He’s heard of those words before… it’s been decades, maybe centuries since he’s heard those words. He couldn’t pinpoint when it was said, but his mind was shouting and pulsating, firing on all cylinders. Pushing through the migraines and flashes of light behind his eyes, he could feel the importance of the words.

 _Big events pull you in_ , Alexander’s voice echoing in his head. A different Alec, an older Alec.

 

And when Magnus finally looks up, the time traveler is gone.

 

* * *

 

 

 

( _present day_ )

 

 

 

He knew that he traveled to the same day, but it was dusk instead of dawn. One day, future Alec will tell him to collect transit cards and hide them all over New York.

But today, Alec watched a new student forget his belongings at a coffee shop and took his gym clothes and student pass before heading to the station.

Alec loved taking the train, both in the past and present. He watched neighborhoods come and go, all of those faces on the platform racing past. He wished it was raining, so he can see the city lights twinkle and streak against the wet glass. Everyone on the train kept to themselves, which was what he loved most about the experience.

He could never bring himself to take this or any mode of transportation in the present. Even when Simon offered to drive his van over to Pandemonium and the City of Bones, he couldn’t risk being in a moving vehicle as a time traveler. It’s best to never experiment on what would happen if he traveled back, long after transportation has moved in space. He preferred to travel on foot or by portal. Other shadowhunters hate feeling sick after portalling, but it never bothered him. It felt tame compared to time travelling.

However, the rules didn’t apply when he’s visiting. He’s tried the ferry, train, a cab, and dozens of bikes. And one time, a horse, but he would never speak of it to his siblings. Ever.

The 7 train provided the right combination of the early evening lull and musicality of the ancient brakes. Just as the train left Queensboro Plaza, Alec was about to nod off when he tasted blood in the back of his throat. He felt his eyes roll to the back of his head before he heard a crash.

 

He knew he was no longer on the train, but where he ended up was far worse.

 

In a fraction of a second, Alec went from feeling nothing to piercing, throbbing agony. If he moved even an inch, it hit every nerve in his body. All he could see was red. Red everywhere. On his hands, on his face, and on every piece of fractal light surrounding him. It’s as if he was still on the train, indistinct faces blur past him as light twinkled on the wet glass. It was difficult to hear anything with the breaks screeching against metal.

“Alec! Alec, listen to me! If you keep screaming, the glass will puncture your lungs!” Izzy was frantic, fumbling with her phone with her hands trembling. “Shit, there’s blood on my hands.”

“I’ll call Magnus,” Jace assures her.

As he pulls his phone out and moves swiftly through his screens, Jace turns to the crowd growing before him. “Listen up! Nobody is to move or come near Alec! And absolutely NO RUNES are to be activated! Are we clear?”

 

* * *

 

 

Centuries of healing that boy prepared him for a traumatic accident like this. The minute he portalled into the Institute, Magnus rolled up his sleeves and went to work straightaway. Every shard of glass particle emerged from Alec’s body without a hint of red stained and floated across the room, as the other shadowhunter’s dodged the shattered pieces.

While the glass holo-table reassembled itself, Magnus fed his magic into Alec and traversed his way through his body as though he was walking through a house he once lived in. Every organ and muscle was where he knew they would be, down to the last bone. The practice of Healing had always been an intimate affair and that’s no exception with Alec. Muscle memory has a different meaning for a healer, where the tissue and cells recall magical regeneration. There’s usually a pushback, an initial shock through his magic that he’s intruding, but not with Alec. In fact, his mind and body welcomed Magnus as if they’ve been acquainted before. What would take hours on any other person took mere minutes for Magnus to heal Alec.

In the past, healing the time traveler was never the focal point of these visits. It was usually followed by food and drinks, catching up, and enjoying each other’s company. He was a different Magnus back then, with no holes in his chest or trenches in his head. A Magnus that was whole. And Alec was Alexander, the time traveler with an effortless smile and fickle tongue. Time belonged to them.

However, the present wasn’t so kind. Being in the Institute with Clave representatives meant that the High Warlock of Brooklyn was asked to leave the instant Alec was sedated. Izzy barely had enough time to thank him and Jace was nowhere to be found.

Magnus found himself standing in front of his penthouse doors and the entire ordeal went by in the blink of an eye.

 

It felt like moments before, he was ignoring the same old warlock disputes and admiring the morning haze over the Hudson when his phone rang. The Fates warned him that he was getting too close to the shadowhunters. Magnus has had to postpone their private meetings three times within the past week and when the other three High Warlocks finally convened with him, he had to excuse himself to deal with shadowhunter business.

So far, this day has left a bad taste in his mouth. It will pair nicely with a bottle of Richebourg.

He had planned to continue his backlog of potion requests in between consultation phone calls, but he was well into his second bottle of wine when he thought, _to hell with being High Warlock today_. Catarina’s at work, he’s still banned from Hotel DuMort, Tessa refuses to come to New York and he couldn’t reach out to Ragnor like he used to.

Back when there used to be seven High Warlocks, they implemented a safety protocol to protect Ragnor Fell by spreading a lie that Herc was the one who created the sleeping potion. When news traveled that Valentine was hunting down warlocks, Magnus knew that Jocelyn’s plans failed. Brewers were disappearing at an alarming rate, including Herc. In the event that Herc was to be captured by Valentine, it would only be a matter of time until Valentine discovers the lie and will leave a deadly warpath until he finds Ragnor.

With Magnus as one of the four remaining High Warlocks, the other three – which he’s deemed the Fates – have been talking in circles about the next steps about Herc missing. And the truth was, Magnus didn’t know what the next step was supposed to be. Every outcome he considered resulted in exposing and endangering Ragnor. Being excommunicated from him has been one of the greatest hardships to carry out, even more so for Catarina.

They all made sacrifices to protect the Mortal Cup, with Magnus making the most reckless decision – to erase Alexander from his memories.

Magnus may never understand why his memories continue to unfold, but he understood why Catarina did what she did. Ultimately, he wouldn’t have been able to properly heal Alexander today if she had erased all his memories of the shadowhunter. Feeling him underneath his magic didn’t trigger another wave of memories like it did the last time they spoke, but it brought on immense nostalgic vibes the longer he spent healing Alexander. His magic must have really missed him, too.

If he opens a third bottle, he’s going to become dangerously sentimental and drunk with memories of Alexander. That’s the problem with recovering from memory suppression: now he couldn’t stop thinking about him.

Alexander hasn’t ruled his thoughts this much since his time in London.

At first, he blamed the memory gaps for muddling with his thoughts and feelings about Alexander. For fifteen years, he sifted through these emotions until Alexander returned and confirmed that perhaps their relationship was much, much more than just centuries worth of happenstances. Magnus used to be very clear on his feelings about him, but all it took were these two visits from the time traveler to prove him wrong.

And then Alexander disappeared for over one hundred years. Was it wrong to hope for a day where he didn’t have to wait for Alexander’s next visit? Was it healthy for Magnus to daydream an idealized future for the two of them? He didn’t care. He coped with the absence until Catarina took what was left of his memories and locked them away.

And now here he is, on the other side of the drought. He’s in the present, in Alexander’s present, and the future he had pictured isn’t everything he hoped for it to be. Honestly, he was getting wine drunk on the eve of Alexander’s wedding to Henry Branwell’s ancestor… who in the hell would have dreamed that up?

The mustard sky hung over the deep blues and purple shadows of Brooklyn and for a moment, Magnus admired how breathtaking the view was. The air tasted of fermented grapes and heartbreak, his lips with a touch of gloss. He held his wine glass in one hand while he adjusted blue robe over his chest with the other, as he stood on the balcony. Magnus was in need of some fresh air when he spotted Alexander strutting out of a portal down the street below.

Speak of the angel.

 

Magnus couldn’t help but count the seconds until he felt Alexander approach the threshold of his wards. Blood was racing through his veins, largely due to… was he on his third or fourth bottle of wine? Nevertheless, his giddiness led to magicking the door open from the balcony, eager to let the dimwit in.

“Hello? Magnus,” the shadowhunter calls out to him from the doorway.

He takes a large swig from his wine glass, smacking his lips together before replying back, “Out here!”

When Alec found his way to the living room, he halted just outside the bedroom, refusing to move further into the lair. The High Warlock reluctantly accepts this cue and prances back in to meet him in the middle.

“I didn’t expect you to be on your feet so soon,” Magnus greets, cringing at his voice, keyed-up.

“I suppose I have you to thank for that, right?” Alexander tells him.

“Still.” Magnus sways his head to the right, with his shoulder in a half-shrug. In the act, his eyes catch a glimmer of red feathers behind the shadowhunter’s back. “It’s too soon to be on a mission, don’t you think?”

Alec shifts on the balls of his feet as he clears his throat. “Actually,” he begins, hastily removing the quiver full of arrows, “I brought these for you.” The instant the quiver is in his right hand, the bow appears in his left before the High Warlock.

Magnus, still peeved from their last conversation, takes a step back defensively. “Alexander, I appreciate the gesture but I told you to keep them for me.”

“This isn’t about Izzy. This is a thank you for healing me,” Alec amends, placing his possessions gently on the coffee table.

“I already informed Lydia that payment won’t be necessary.”

“Magnus,” Alexander pleads. The inflection of his voice triggers a memory, the room flickering before his eyes to resemble a ballroom for the briefest second.

The mood shifts and Magnus is immediately sobered by the sound of his name. “Okay,” Magnus concedes.

 _Tell me there’s a way to fix this_ , a voice echoes in his head. He couldn’t help the new wave of memories unfold, flashes of his life before and after London. Even moments that didn’t make sense during the memory suppression, but now click into place. On the inside, Magnus is thrilled by the flashbacks.

On the outside, with his distant gaze and forehead creased, Magnus anxiously rubs his fingers together while Alec looks on with unease.

“I should just,” the shadowhunter says, walking himself backwards for the door.

“Wait!” He snaps out of his trance, blinking himself back to the present. Magnus looks down at the bow and quiver and waves his hands over them with his magic until they disappeared from sight. Alexander will find them in due time and they’ll make a fuss about it, but until then, he’s stored them in its rightful place.

The time traveler stops in his tracks and remains stoic as Magnus approached him.

“I have to ask you something and you have to be completely honest with me,” Magnus demands, his chin turned up and his shoulders back. “No more half-truths.”

Alexander takes a deep breath before he nods, a silent agreement to an order.

“In the last 24 hours, how many times have you traveled?”

Magnus watches him lick his lips before bringing his lips inward. The shadowhunter does his best to avert his eyes elsewhere before closing his eyes, riled. He could see him roll his eyes before opening them to find Magnus.

“Eleven times,” Alec confesses.

He couldn’t tell if it was the wine still lingering in his bloodstream or if it’s the answer itself, but a titter was bubbling in his chest before escaping, bringing Magnus into hysterics.

“Well, I’m glad my misfortune amuses you,” Alec deadpans, turning on his heels for the door. “Thanks for saving my life, I guess.”

“Tell your sister I owe her a drink!” Magnus hollers after him.

Alec freezes at the end of the hall and storms back into the room. “Is this some sort of joke to you?”

“No,” he snickered, his demeanor changing into displeasure. “What’s a joke is you jeopardizing your life for this wedding.”

“Aha, really? This, again? I’m not about to have this conversation, Magnus. You and I understand this situation very differently.”

The High Warlock scoffs. “There is no conversation to be had. You don’t marry Lydia. Plain and simple.”

“I’m getting married. A fixed point isn’t going to change that, no matter what you think. It’s… I…” There’s something endearing about the different sounds Alec makes when he stammers, as he forms a thought, only to stop in his tracks before he begins. “You only know me as a time traveler, but right now, I’m a shadowhunter. First and foremost, this is about family, and tradition, honor-”

Magnus chortles. “Honor? There’s no honor in living a lie, Alexander.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you, risking your life for this lie and confusing that for strength. I’m talking about having to pull a shard of glass from between your eyes and you still choosing to marry her. Why are you so hell bent on denying yourself real happiness? This wedding is killing you, Alexander. Where’s the honor in that?”

Fucking hell, Alexander’s hard work when he’s young. Magnus can only imagine how difficult he was in the past, with the different Alec’s having to deal with his antics, outbursts, and every mistake that led him to the memory gaps.

Alec looks at him as though he was a reflection of his younger self, innocent and insecure. “I don’t know,” he tells Magnus.

At least he’s being honest with him. A small voice in his head keeps nagging at him, telling him, _your responsibility isn’t to fix this_. But he has to try. Ragnor once said that Alexander was the one person that had the ability to get through to him. It was centuries worth of building up their friendship for that level of trust and now, Magnus was back at the bottom.

“What about love?” Magnus digresses, desperate to get through to him. “Even shadowhunters fall in love, Alec. If you truly believe that Lydia will make you happy, tell me and I'll stop.”

There’s that face again: the gears turning in Alexander’s mind. The mind of the time traveler doesn’t stop, the different scenarios playing in his head, filtering the half-truths. He stammers once more, uncertain how the ribbon of words will flow from his mouth.

“I don’t know.” His voice deflates, with more genuine honesty than Magnus knew what to do with. “Why do you keep pushing? You… y-you’re confusing me.”

“Good!” Magnus proclaims. “Confusion is good. That's how you find out if something's there. For almost a century, I've closed myself off to feeling anything for anyone. For centuries, I've been with men, women, Seelies, warlocks, vampires, a djinn or two…

And you, by far, are one of the most important people in my life. You, Alexander, confuse the hell out of me, too.”

Magnus has waited for over a hundred years to confront these feelings, to face them with the one person he needed answers from, but he was left with young Alec. Dubious, arduous Alec. He needed Alexander the most, the time traveler that has yet to exist for Alec but was a reality to him.

“Do you have any idea what that’s like? To know you for centuries, only to be left even more confused than the visit before? It’s like… treading water, expecting to feel the surface floor, only to feel nothing but the drop beneath your feet. It’s like knowing that you want to go away, but having no place to go. It’s… it’s like phantom limbs and gravity, you don’t understand why you feel something, but you do.

You feel it when you lose your breath, every time they enter a room…

Your heart beats faster when they walk by…

Your skin tingles when they stand close enough to feel their breath.”

No magic in the world could convey how much he needed Alec in that moment, feeling his warmth and tension within reach. There are still things he may never understand about his relationship with the shadowhunter, but he’ll always be certain about one thing: from this day forward, he will never stop loving the time traveler.

 

* * *

 

 

 

By the angel, when did his life become so confusing?

 

All his life, he’s wanted to just… be someone else. Whether it was Jace or Preston or a random boy, miles away from home, playing with his mundane friends out in the streets, he wanted to be someone else. Someone better, normal. And then Older Alec came into his life, a version of himself that he aspired to be. It’s been maddening, trying to figure out how they were the same person. He needed to know how to get from who he is now to where he wants to be. He didn’t have the patience to wait it out.

The closest thing to feeling what it’s like to be Older Alec was when he’s around Magnus. He thought he could be happy to just have Jace in his life, his parabatai by his side no matter what the outcome was for his political marriage.

But then, to meet someone who was so… unapologetically himself, powerful and unbelievably handsome, that it’s impossible to resist. Alec couldn’t help but want to be the best version of whatever Magnus believes him to be. Because, somehow, of all the universes that could exist, the High Warlock of Brooklyn has known him, a version of him that he’s desperate to be.

A man he can’t be.

As long as his family is under scrutiny and until he can rightfully secure the Institute back under the Lightwood name, he can’t be that man. Magnus confirms that his future includes travelling back to the past and that’s all he’ll ever have with Magnus. Alec know it’s wrong… it would be like cheating. But it would be the closest thing he could have to make everyone happy. The Institute would be his, the Lightwood name will mean something in due time, and he’ll see Magnus wherever and whenever time travel takes him.

Would that make him happy? Is this what older Alec will become?

The more certain he feels about the wedding, Magnus manages to leave him more confused than before. And more than anything, he wants to feel what Magnus feels. To be breathless, to feels his heart be fast, to feel the goosebumps crawling up his skin. But all he feels is… confusion.

 

“I know you feel what I feel, Alec.”

 

Magnus is looking at him the way he always wanted Jace to look at him – with want, with desperation, with hope. Hope is impossible to resist. Their eyes flicker down to each other’s lips, only a breath apart.

All it would take is one second of courage to take that extra step, dip his head, and kiss him. And kiss him the way he’s daydreamed about kissing him. At the Institute, in front of all the shadowhunters, without shame. If he could be honest with himself, he should have kissed him the moment he walked into the penthouse. But it can never be.

 

“You don't have any clue what I feel, so back off.”

 

Alec needs to be clear, to set boundaries and rules to make sense of all the chaos. He can see the pain written all over Magnus’ face, but he needs to say this before either of them become even more confused.

“You think that because you know me, you have every right to tell me about my future? About what is and isn’t fixed? My life isn’t a game, Magnus. You flirt, you laugh, you use magic, but at the end of the day, what do you risk?”

As soon as those words leave his lips, Magnus’ face goes pale, his eyes blown open and nostrils flaring, as though he was just slapped in the face. Alec wishes he can take the words back, but his mouth persists.

“I barely know you! And even if I did feel something for you, you think I’m just going to give up my life for you? I have to do what's right for me. I could lose my family, my career, everything! You just don't get it.” Alec turns around, gathering up the nerve to leave and never see the damage he’s done to Magnus.

If his feet refuse to carry forward, he begs for his ability to take him away from the misery he’s caused for the both of them.

“You once told me that time travel is like gravity,” Magnus recalls, thick with emotions.

The words strike him from behind, piercing his lungs, making it hard for him to breathe. Alec has never been able to properly put these thoughts into words, but Magnus made it sound like poetry. It’s like reading a book for the first time and finding a string of words that rattles the earth beneath his feet – so extraordinarily personal and familiar.

“Yeah, it is,” Alec tells him, his back still towards Magnus. “Big events pull you in.”

It doesn’t sound as eloquent like how Magnus says it, but Alec could feel the magnitude of what these words mean to him. These words belong to them, they mean something so much bigger than the two of them. No rune, no drink, no training will ever hold a candle to the rush he feels.

 

“... I was your big event.”

 

With that one sentence, Alec’s resolve shatters into thick shards of glass. And if he should fall, the pieces will leave him bleeding, so he’ll bleed. Magnus will be there to heal him. In that moment, all that matters to him is Magnus. He turns to face the High Warlock, against everything he believes in.

But, all that’s left is thin air.

 

Gone.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, long time no see!! Life happened in a HUGE way, but this was always in the back of my mind! I've missed this and I'm so happy to finally give this to you. I don't do this enough, but I owe [Erica](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lulabo/pseuds/lulabo) so much for being a stellar friend and beta.
> 
> I can guarantee that the 1x12 arc will continue very soon. Thank you so much for the SWEETEST, most amazing comments and kudos while I was away! You guys <3


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